


Changing

by FayeOfTheForest



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayeOfTheForest/pseuds/FayeOfTheForest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Season 1 Kurt goes to see his grandmother Kathrine in Paris for the summer. He comes back changed. Changed for the better, is what he thinks, but do the people standing closest to him feel the same way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Metamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/366634) by [gleefulmusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings). 



> This story, as you might notice if you've read lots and lots of Glee fanfiction, is very much inspired by the fic named Metamorphosis by Gleefulmusings which exists both at AO3 and fanfiction.net. 
> 
> That is not a coincidence. I started rewriting that text for fun a while ago, molding it to my own pleasure. Oddly it helped me get out of my slump and suddenly I'd written several chapters.
> 
> This fic starts in the same manner and in the first chapter you will probably notice that I started out adding and editing to the original version. That means that in that chapter there are some nuggets of text that are absolutely and completely Gleefulmusing's. Beyond the first chapter it's all my own writing, though it definitely draws on Gleefulmusings original idea. 
> 
> I have also borrowed some more subtle bits, plot drivers, but as you will see the story diverges pretty soon and, since it is written by me, the piece is different in matter of writing style.
> 
> I don't really see the danger of rewriting a fanfic myself, as it is only another level of fanfiction to me, but I understand the concern some have. Gleefulmusings himself knows about my story and doesn't seem very concerned. 
> 
> I want to add that if you like my story (or only like the premise) you should check out his fic as well. Maybe you will like that one equally or even better than mine.
> 
> (Metamorphosis, by Gleefulmusings: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366634)
> 
>  
> 
> Have a bun  
> (\/)  
>  (. .)  
>  O-O
> 
> I'm so sorry bun. You look like you have a congenital deformation :(
> 
>  
> 
> (Edit again because I, as a major noob, put the notes at the end and not at the beginning. Sorry Gleefulmusings!)

Burt Hummel anxiously paced outside the baggage claiming area.

It figured that the plane was late. His gut roiled with anticipation as he waited for Kurt's plane to land. It was almost three months ago now that he had watched his only child walking into gate 8, boarding a plane to France.

He knew he was being ridiculous, knew that Kurt would be perfectly fine in his grandmother's care, but it hadn't stopped him from worrying. They had never been separated for longer than a couple of days, and he was now itching to hold him in his arms.

When Suzanne's mother had originally approached the idea of Kurt spending the summer with her in Paris, Burt had straight out refused. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands when Katherine had gone behind his back and asked Kurt directly.

And Kurt simply would not accept his father's decision. He hadn't whined or begged or cajoled as another teenager might have done. He had been coldly logical, refuting every reason not for him to go that Burt could come up with.

“What about the language barrier?” Kurt rolled his eyes at him and proceeded to demonstrate that he was in fact fluent in French. Shit.

“What about the cost? I won't pay, if that's what you're thinking”. Katrine was footing the entire bill. The bitch.

“What about Finn and Carole?”. Carole wanted him to have this opportunity and Finn didn't give a shit. Hell.

“What about your friends?” They were all spending the holiday away as well.

“Airsickness? Homework? I need you in the shop?” He didn't get it, he didn't have any, and his father could hire a summer intern for less than he payed Kurt.

Burt soon realized that he was loosing the argument and as a last desperate attempt he tried to bribe him. With money, with a trip to New York City, even a new car.

But Kurt only shook his head, and finally he went in for the killing blow, saying flat out that he didn't appreciate being kept from his only connection to his mother's family. Burt hadn't known what to say to that and so he had relented.

Now it was ninety days later. Kurt had been to Europe and he had not only been to France, but also gone on shorter trips to Britain, Ireland, Spain, Austria, Italy, and Greece. He had learned two new languages, which brought his cache up to six.

Through Skype and emails, Burt had heard all about it. How Kurt had attended the opera in Vienna, ballet in Paris, fashion shows in Milan, dance classes in Dublin, song lessons in Rome, and gone so many beautiful places and seen so many things. He had emailed hundreds of pictures and sent dozens of postcards.

But the words of his emails couldn't mask the fact that his son had begun pulling away from him, becoming more distant, more adult.

In the end Kurt had put off his flight home until the last possible minute. He was actually going to have to go to the first day of school at McKinley in only about 5 hours. Burt hoped he had slept well on the plane.

He knew he only had a certain amount of time left with his son. That was the primary, and unspoken, reason he hadn't wanted to send Kurt to Katrine. Soon college would come and he was going to lose Kurt to life.

Burt was startled out of his gloomy line of thought by a tap on his shoulder. He turned, ready to give a sharp reprimand at the rudeness, but was met by a pair of familiarly marine blue eyes instead.

"Hi, Dad," Kurt said, smiling brightly.

Burt took him by the shoulders, looking him over. “You're taller” he said, hearing bewilderment in his own voice. His son now stood only a few inches shorter than his father, not a whole head. He had also gained a tan.

Kurt snorted and glanced down at his own body as if he only noticed now.  
“Yeah, I guess. Not much though”.

Many other things were noticeably different about him. His hair had grown a bit past it's normal length and he seemed to have become slightly broader. His clothes looked more casual than anything Burt had ever seen him wearing before, but maybe that was just for the plane trip.

Burt pulled him close, quietly breathing in the warm smell of his son's skin. That at least hadn't changed, and he was grateful. They clutched each other closely for a while, Burt knowing that his grip was maybe overly tight.

Then they parted and went about getting a hold of Kurt's luggage which had already began riding down the conveyor belt. Burt took the large bag in hand even as Kurt was reaching for it, and they headed for the parking lot.

He even moved differently, Burt noted as they walked. Although there was still something of the unapologetic sway in his steps, it had been reduced, but the spring, the confidence, of his walk had somehow increased. Every step he took looked as if he took it with a purpose.

They found their car quickly, parked close to the exit, and seated themselves. Kurt switched on the radio, letting it play in the background as they drove on their way 67 miles back to Lima.

They stayed quiet for much of the trip, Kurt looking tired as he leaned his back heavily into the seat, but keeping an odd smile on his lips even while he dozed.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, and Burt found himself smiling as well, his son's contentedness infectious.

“Do you want to stop at Starbucks? You got to have missed their coffee, huh?” Burt impulsively asked as they eventually made it into the centre of Lima.

Kurt shook his head. "No thank you. I'd rather have some of your coffee back home”.

Burt crinkled his eyebrows and chuckled. “I though you said my coffee tasted like swill?”.

“Well, it's potent, that's true enough” He gave a laughing breath, “but it's your coffee. So I missed it”.

His father felt almost embarrassed. He wasn't used to this smiling, complimenting Kurt. But he was sure he could grow used to him. He looked away, out over the dashboard to the line of the road as they drove through the streets of the small town.

“You're tan” he remarked.

Kurt looked to be a bit self concious about it, looking at the skin of his exposed wrist critically. “Yeah. I couldn't avoid the sun for the whole summer you know. Especially not walking around the ruins of the Acropolis in Greece. I used a lot of sunscreen though”

“It look's good on you. You look healthy”

It actually made his eyes stand out as well, those beautiful eyes he had inherited from Suzanne, but Burt didn't mention that.

Dawn were just breaking when the tires of their car rustled against the shingle in their driveway. The sky was bright yellow, pink blooming on the horizon. Burt turned the key, hearing the rumble of the motor fade away.

They didn't step out of the car immediately, taking a moment to study the beautiful sunrise first. And in Kurt's case maybe also taking in the view of their house, with all it's dear flaws and faults, which he hadn't seen for ninety days.

“You're done with the renovation?” he asked.

Burt nodded. “Yeah. Can you see any difference?” During the summer he'd busied himself by giving their house a new coat of paint and making it fit for Carol and Finn to eventually move into. It had been a long way going and difficult, but he had needed it to take his mind off worrying about Kurt.

“Yes. It looks newer, shinier” his son answered, stepping out of the car.  
This time he came first to the trunk and lifted his bag over his own shoulder, but Burt tsked at him and took over carrying it again.

“You carry your cabin luggage” he said, hearing Kurt sigh exasperatedly at him. There was a note of unmistakable fondness in there though.

They tried to walk quietly as they locked themselves inside, but it was dark and Burt had to fumble for the light switch, toppling a lamp as he reached.  
“When did that thing get there?” he grumbled as his son made a poor attempt to conceal his laughter.

Burt started a batch of pancakes when they finally got into the kitchen, while Kurt went to put his bag into his room. When he showed up again the room was smelling delicious.

“Mm” Kurt hummed. “That smells really good”, he said as he pulled plates out of the cupboard, his stomach growling a little bit.

“Hungry?” Burt questioned.

“Very. Should I go wake Carol and Finn?”

“No”, he answered. “I'll go”. He hands the spatula over to Kurt, who flips the remaining the pancakes expertly onto the serving plate before continuing to set the table.

Soon his soon-to-be stepmother and brother came yawning down the stairs. They were still both wearing sleeping attire, complete with pink slippers in Carol's case.

When she saw Kurt a sleepy smile stretched across her lips and she hastened over to hug him.

“Kurt, we've missed you” she said before releasing him again. “Oh, I bet you've had so much fun!” Kurt grinned at her.

Finn also gave him a short hug then, but it's a bit more awkward, and Kurt visibly stiffens at the touch even though he attempts not to show it. He’s still feeling hurt, and though through the summer he had been completely purged of any romantic feelings for Finn, he still represents a big bundle of humiliating memories and issues for him.

“Welcome back, Kurt” he said and Kurt wondered whether he felt him stilling. Probably not. It was Finn Hudson after all.

They sat down to eat, Carol asking questions about Kurt's trip here and there. Kurt answering, asking about their relatively uneventful summer.

“I met a girl at this party last week” Finn broke in with just after Kurt had told about going up into the eiffel tower, watching couples propose to each other at the top. Burt could see his son concealing a smile.

“Oh?” he muttered, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

“Yeah. Her name is Ofelia. I think we hit it off pretty well”. Apparently Ofelia was a blonde and 'literally the most beautiful girl on the planet except Angelina Jolie'.

Somewhere around there the pancakes were gone and Kurt excused himself to go get ready for school, soon followed by Finn and Carol, leaving  
Burt to clean up after breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Kurt reappeared, ready before Finn for the first time ever since Burt could remember. He calmly prepared a termocup, filling it with steaming coffee.

His hair was slick and wet still from the shower and he looked refreshed. Still. Something was a bit...

“Your clothes…” Burt started, before pausing.  
Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“They're different” he remarked. And indeed they were. His grey pants seemed to fit better and his top was a simple black-green henley. A lot of the flair, the patterns, the brightly coloured accessories were gone, leaving a simpler, more boyish look behind. The only effeminate thing about his look was a single blue stone stud in his right earlobe, shaped like some kind of fish.

“Oh” Kurt shrugged. “I've changed my personal style a little bit while in Europe. Or gained a personal style, I should say. It wasn't as if I really had one before”.

“What?” Burt said, confused.

“Nothing, dad. Don't you like it?”

“Yes” Burt answered, truthfully. To be honest he had long wanted his son to start wearing more a bit more masculine clothes, but he'd never said that of course, nor would he ever. He had also thought his sons attire to often be a bit over the top, but again he would never say anything. What did he know about fashion anyway?

The question was though, was this his son's true wish? To tone down his own flamboyance, if you would?

“I was thinking about going to head out now, go get some supplies for school” Kurt announced then, swinging a brown messenger bag over his shoulder.

Burt, nodded. “Okay, son”

Kurt then went searching for Finn, whom he was giving a ride to school.  
“Finn!” he shouted.

“I'm coming!” was yelled back down the stairs.

***

Soon they were riding towards school. And true to what he said they stopped at Staples, buying a few notebooks and some pens.

They arrived at the school early, while the parking lot was still thankfully empty of footballers, as had been his intention. He threw a hateful glance at the dumpster standing in the back of the lot, mentally vowing never to end up in it ever again.

He made up his mind just as they walked in through the entrance door. “Finn? Can I talk to you in the glee room for a minute?” he asked.

Finn looked startled at the request. Even though their parents were dating it didn't mean that they had suddenly become best friends. Finn had stopped bullying him and chit chatted with him once in a while, that was all.

“Sure” he said.

The hallways were still mostly empty, so it didn't take long before the doors of the school auditorium swung shut behind them.

“So” Kurt began. “This morning I drove to school early because I didn't want to get tossed in a dumpster. Now, good as that alternative was for today, it won't work in the long run”

He was cut off by Finn who was looking a bit alarmed. “Look, you know I can't do anything about that”

“I'm not accusing you of anything, Finn.” Kurt said, even though on the inside he wanted to say that yes he could. He was the goddamned captain of the football team. Even a statement of disapproval from him would do something to help him. “I just need ask you about something”.

“What?” he asked, forehead furrowed.

“Which of the jocks, beside Karofsky and Azimio, are biggest bullies?” Kurt asked, voice clear and calm.

Finns brows shot up further. “Err… Calvin, I guess. Calvin Behan. And Tyler Rosenwood. Why? Are you planning something?”

Kurt smiled at him. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Finn”

Then he left him behind, going to lay the majority of his books in his locker. Still the halls looked as if deserted, only a single student walking up the hallway. He went to the library next, settling down with his computer at the space in the back corner, hidden behind a shelf of books.

On the school web site he found a link to the web version of the year book. He went through it methodically, looking for a face he knew only from their shared plight. Dane, Martin. He was a senior, tragically still being bullied into writing the jocks’ essays. He was freckly and quite pudgy, and a pair of Harry Potter glasses perched on the root of his nose. An easy target, just like Kurt.

He and Dane had long been the level one targets for bullying at McKinley high. Kurt because he was effeminate and Martin Dane because he stuttered, had a bad case of moobs and was a straight A student.

He found Dane’s phone number in the yellow pages, storing it on his phone. He opened a new text, but stilled, not knowing what to write yet. He pondered for a while before getting disturbed by a pinging sound.

Mercedes > Kurt  
Hey, boy. Where are you? I just got here.

Kurt grinned. He hadn't talked to Mercedes for a very long time, only conversing by short emails during the summer. He was exited to see her again, to hear all about her holiday in Florida.

Kurt > Mercedes  
I'm at the library. Can't wait to see you.

Finally he decided on a simple

Kurt > M. Dane  
Hello. Are you Martin Dane?

Soon came the answer:

M. Dane > Kurt  
Yes. Who are you?

Kurt had to chuckle at that, pondered whether he should tell him now or later. He had a slight worry, as he did with all people, that Martin would reject him just because of his sexuality.

Kurt > M. Dane  
Let's just say I'm a fellow bully victim who now has the means to do something about it. I was wondering whether you want in.

He had barely been able to press send when a girlish, very familiar shriek pierced his ears, and apparently the ears of the librarian as well, who sushed them loudly.

Turning he found himself tightly wrapped in a big, warm bundle of Mercedes. “I missed you” she said into his neck.

“I missed you too”.

Eventually they unwrapped and they each stood there silent for a second, looking each other over. Mercedes looked bright and brilliant the way she always did in her red top and big hoop earrings, her lips shining glossy in the fluorescent light. But Kurt realised that she seemed a bit alien now too, not because she had changed, but because he didn't entirely know how they interacted anymore. After such a long time it would need to be relearnt.

“You look different” She said.

“Yeah, I know. The sun in Greece is too bright for any sunscreen to shield you entirely. How are you 'Cedes?” he asked, sitting down at his previous seat.

She smiled a bit crookedly. “I'm good. Very good, in fact”. She sat down, then she leaned across the table and mock whispered. “I'm going on a second date with a guy next saturday”.

Kurt smiled at her, eyes widening a little. “That's great! Who is he?”

Mercedes' future husband's name was Daniel, and apparently he was a really sweet, black and beautiful guy who had started flirting with her at Starbucks. He was a hockey player, and Kurt couldn’t help grimacing when he heard that.

«Kurt» Mercedes chided, smiling «Jock doesn’t always have to be synonymous with jackass, you know. Mike and Matt are okay, aren’t they?»

Kurt had to relent at that, because yes, that they were. He nodded, «But Matt moved this summer. So I’m holding on to my theory that jockdom and stupidity are somehow genetically intertwined»

Mercedes frowned. «Oh, I had forgotten. Aren’t we short one person for Glee club then?»

«Yeah. We’re probably going to have to talk about that today». They would probably have to try recruiting again, which never seemed to work because Glee was seen as the lamest of all the high school clubs. It was even lower than the chess club, and that was saying something. Kurt really really wasn’t looking forward to it.

«How was Florida?» he asked to lighten up the mood that was rapidly diving. Mercedes lit up at that, smiling.

They caught up for a while, Mercedes doing most of the talking as she seemed close to bursting to tell somebody about every detail the starry nights, the sandy beaches and the hot tour guide.

Kurt shot in with a couple of anecdotes about his own trip, the lively city lights that lit up London in the night, the wonderful voice coach he had in Paris, but mostly he was happy to let her have the stage.

For some reason he wasn’t as exited to tell everybody about his trip, even though it had been fantastic.

They spoke on until the bell rang and they had to hurry to class. First class was Math which he had with both Artie and Mike, something that was decidedly a bit awkward as Tina had apparently dumped Artie for Mike over the summer. By text.

He chose to sit by Artie, one seat behind Mike and the conspicuously empty place beside him, throwing him what he hoped to be an apologetic look.  
Artie looked physically okay, or as okay as a boy with paralysis from the waist down could, but his face was a painting of poorly concealed misery.

He smiled at Kurt when he came up to him and sat, but as soon as they stopped talking it slipped from his face. Kurt hoped he wasn't slipping into a depression the way he had once before during their childhood.

Next class were Biology, surprisingly leaving him sitting beside Santana as she waved him to the desk beside hers. “Nice” was her starting comment, leading Kurt to ask “What?”

“I said you look hot” she answered dully, before continuing making small paper balls to toss at Rachel whenever she didn't see.

Kurt quieted the urge to let a hand pull through his hair. “Thank you. You do too”

“I know” the eye roll was palpable in her voice. This was what made Santana such a hard person to talk to. She held no regard for manners, feeling no need to be polite or even non-hostile. Most people never made it past the Satan part of her personality. To be honest he wasn’t sure he even had yet.

Other than that they didn't speak much other than a “How was your summer?” and a “Fucking fantastic”. Still it wasn't that awkward, which only made sense because Santana was Santana.

The next hour he sat alone in the back taking notes while simultaneously texting with Martin Dane.

M. Dane > Kurt  
of course. but who are you? are you kurt hummel?

Kurt > M. Dane  
How did you know? I need something from you then. I believe you could get me the email addresses of all the jocks?

M. Dane > Kurt  
you’re the first one who comes to mind when i think of bully victims at mckinley. also your punctuation. and i might have searched the yellow pages for your number.  
yes, i could do that easily.

Kurt > M. Dane  
Do it and send them all to me at k.hummel@gmail.com

Kurt started explaining his plan, and by the time the lunch bell rang Dane was up to speed.

M. Dane > Kurt  
do you really think it will work? what you’re doing is actually pretty illegal you know.

He didn’t even have to hesitate before he texted back.

Kurt > M. Dane  
If it could get them to leave us alone it’s worth a try.

M. Dane > Kurt  
yeah. thank you for doing it, i guess.

All the glee members had a non spoken agreement to meet up at the usual table at lunch. Except Finn and Puck, who almost never showed up. But today they all were there when Kurt walked out into the cafeteria with Brittany's arm around his neck.

“You know, Kurty, I think we should have a pyjama party. With you and me and Santana and all the others. We could make fondue” She was saying.

“Wow, Brittany. That sounds really wonderful” Kurt replied absentmindedly as he steered them towards the table. “But I really think we should have chocolate as well”.

She looked at him with widened eyes, “That is a great idea”. Sometimes it was really hard to believe that Brittany was an A student and not a stoner.

They found two free seats by the table, squished in between Mike and Santana.

“Hey” he said.

“Hi, Mike” Kurt greeted with a smile. It might not be exactly the first time he spoke to Mike, but it was one out of very few. Maybe he felt that they should get to know each other better now that he was dating one of Kurt's best friends. “How have you been?”

Mike shrugged. “Good”, he said, but changed his mind as Tina bumped into him teasingly. “Very good actually” he corrected himself, smirking at her.

He was happy for them, he realised. Even though Artie and Tina were his oldest friends they had grown apart over the years and didn't fit together the way they used to anymore. Mike and Tina seemed to be a better match.

Around the table several conversations were taking place at the same time, people catching up and greeting each other after the summer. Almost everybody seemed happy to be back, the kind of joy at going to school that would for most of them disappear again before the week's end.

He noticed a few exceptions though. Artie was obviously distraught where he was sitting beside Mercedes on the opposite end of the table from Kurt, hardly joining the conversation at all.

There was also a distinct lack of cheer, meaning snarky insults, from Quinn. As far as he could tell she was still mourning having to give away her baby. He felt sympathy for her, he realised. Even if she had been a total bitch to him in the past, he didn't wish this suffering on her.

Puck on the other hand, whom you would think would also be quite heartbroken seeing as he was the baby daddy, seemed fine. Joking and giving Artie a nuggie as he came over to the table, latest of them all.

Kurt suddenly became aware that Rachel was trying contact him across the table. “Kurt, what do you think?” she wondered, and he was a bit stumped.

“To what are you referring?” he asked, taking a new sip from his water bottle.

“We were talking about this new guy, Sam. He joined school today. Apparently he's really attractive” she explained.

“He is delicious, is what he is” Santana piped up with. Apparently she had been the one to bring him up. “I got the responsibility of showing him around school” The way she smirked as she said that, bore bad news.

Kurt sighed. “Santana, what did you do to him?”

“I gave him the wrong directions to his classroom and abandoned him. I'm not a damned babysitter”, she answered, pulling out a nail file from her pocket and going to work on her hands.

Mercedes huffed, “Santana! That poor guy walked right into Chem 2 and sat down in the back. He was so embarrassed when the teacher asked him what he was doing there and they realised he wasn't supposed to be there. I think he apologized eight times. Eight times, Santana!”

“So you've seen him?” Rachel asked. Despite being madly in love with Finn she still was a total gossip queen, and hot boys were gossip gold.

Mercedes nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Blond with really pouty lips? Medium hight, athletic?”

“Him?” Santana pointed at some guy who had just walked in through the cafeteria door, accompanied by two girls.

“Yup” Mercedes confirmed. “Well, Santana. It seemed your prank is actually going to get him some. Those are two of the girls from my Chem class”

Santana snorted. “I think that even if you clothed him in a dirty garbage bag, that boy would find a lady willing to do the do with him”

“The frick” Brittany joined in with, smiling, always relied upon to find words synonymous to sex. “And the frack”.

Kurt smiled at her fondly. “But what did you want my opinion on?” he asked.

“I was wondering whether we have any chance to get him to join the Glee club with us” Rachel said.

Kurt gave the new kid another once over. Those lips were indeed very thick and pouty and the guy, Sam, was undeniably hot. “Not a chance in hell” he said.

Rachel gasped, and Mercedes looked at him strangely. “You swore. I've never heard you swear before”, she said.

“Oh. Whoops?” he tried, shrugging. “I was spending a lot of the summer with this irish girl who's mouth was fouler than a sailor's. I guess Katy kind of rubbed off on me”. Actually Katy had a voice which's musicality could make even the word 'arse' sound beautiful.

Kurt expected somebody to ask him more about Katy, about his trip, but nobody did. They were all too occupied with talking about their own summers, and stuck between a couple and a almost couple he felt a bit isolated as he heard the others chat among themselves.

He knew it was mostly in his own mind, the way the others neglected talking with him, that over the summer he had grown accustomed to staying with a smaller group of people, adults, who really saw him and payed attention to what he said.

In this crowd there was only Mercedes who was really close to him, and even she had grown a bit distant recently.

The lunch ended soon and they went on to their classes which went on quite uneventfully. Kurt stayed delightfully slushie free and other than a brisk “Get out of my way, faggot” the jocks seemed to be leaving him alone. Maybe they were too contented today, at the first day after the holidays, to think hurting someone to be time well spent.

Anyway he and all the rest of the glee members had made it unscathed through the day as they met up in the auditorium. Schuester was already there when they arrived, leaning up against the piano.

“Welcome back to a new and exiting year for New Directions!” he called out as soon as they had all entered.

He continued on with a speech about how this year they were definitely going to win regionals, why, they could even win nationals. Kurt didn't really listen to him as he spoke, preferring to watch the way he gesticulated with his hands, throwing them up into the air, and waving them around trying to punctuate his words. He really was a thespian through and through, wasn't he?

Schuester then announced that they would be choosing songs for their set lists at the start of next week. He handed out his suggestions, which he expected them to choose from. There were many a grumble and groan as they read through the list. Mr. Schuester might not have the worst taste in music, but it definitely weighted more on the show tune end of the spectrum.

Kurt looked over the set list himself, shaking his head. Then he lifted his hand, holding it up until Schuester nodded for him to speak.

“Mr. Schuester, I think I speak for everybody here when I say that we would like to have more input regarding the set list. I would like us to be able to come with our own suggestions” he commented.

Schue seemed stumped for a while, not having expected anybody, or at least not Kurt, to critique his methods.

“Well, I just don't think it would be practical. I know what the crowd likes, Kurt. And to be honest I just think it's a waste of time”

“I think you're wrong” said Kurt, and silence spread through the room. Despite that he knew with certainty that Rachel, the one of them who had never been afraid to speak her mind to Schue, thought the same way he did, she didn't say a word.

Schue had just about opened his mouth again to say something else when Quinn suddenly spoke up.

“I think Kurt has a point. I'm tired of almost always singing songs that you want us to sing. I don't really even like show tunes”.

And suddenly everybody else felt comfortable agreeing as well, a cacophony of «Yeah!» and «Agreed», «I agree», washed through the room.

“Fine” Schue eventually agreed, raising his hands placatingly. “Next monday we'll have a brainstorming about what songs to have on the set list. But no obscenity people!”

“Maybe we could send our ideas to you like an email first and then you can give your opinion? Before we perform them on Monday?” Artie suggested.

Schue ended up seeming slightly aggravated at his students for hijacking  
the first glee lesson of the year, but he also seemed a bit excited that so many of the students wanted to take some initiative. Anyhow he was smiling at the end of the argument.

“So” he said, cutting off some chattering that had begun in the back between Rachel and Mercedes effectively.

“There is another issue to discuss today. Since Matt left we are short a member to be able to qualify for competitions. We need to recruit people. I want you to go out there and ask all of your friends whether they want to join, whether they would consider singing in choir, whether they like to sing at all. I'm going to put up posters on the message board” he announced.

There was another wave of collective groaning from Finn and Puck, and many of the students stared at Schue as if he had grown another head. Had Schue somehow not realised that most of them used Glee as a respite from everybody else. That most of them, barring the jocks, had no more friends than those who stood in this room? Some even had fewer, Kurt thought glumly.

But search they would.

They spent the rest of the hour singing through songs they had already done, with the addition of The Rose, and a few other famous songs just for kicks. At the end of the hour the familiar warmth that accompanied singing, the blankness of mind, had lifted Kurt's spirits exponentially and he was sad to part for the day.

In the parking lot nobody was waiting for him, and he made his way to the his car humming and smiling. He started up the engine and made his way down the street, turning right at the exit, the opposite way of the road he usually took toward the Hummel residence.

Before he went back home there was something he needed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

He followed the directions his car’s gps gave him into one of the more downtrodden part of Lima. This was half an abandoned warehouse area, slash building area, and half a block area. Apparently he was going into the oldest one of the large apartment blocks, up to the third floor. He parked his car outside on the pavement, feeling apprehension, but also excitement, as he locked it.

The hinges on the door squeaked when he pulled it open and the hallway inside was small and tight, a winding staircase seeming to go unendingly into the air. The wood of the thing had been torn down to a slippery polish in the middle of the steps, but he thought that once upon a time this staircase would have been beutiful.

On the third floor there was only two doors and one of them was marked with a sign that said ‘Donald McIntyre PI’. He hesitated outside. He had never really spoken to McIntyre, had never seen him, only emailed with him. As went inside he heard a ping from the bell over the door. He entered a small waiting room. He looked curiously around, noting that there were old magazines lying in a stack on the table. Beside it stood a green couch that probably belonged in the seventies.

And in it a man was sitting, or rather sleeping with his head leant back against the headrest. Kurt took his time to study him, noting that he was middle aged and that he didn’t look nearly as seedy as he had expected. He didn’t have a fedora for one, and he didn’t have a swirly mustache. He was balding and bore an impressive beard beneath his sharp, narrow nose, and a dark, but obviously not very new, suit lay wrinkled over his large frame.

Kurt cleared his throat. Loudly.

The man stilled, but did not wake.

Kurt tried agan, and this time one of his eyelids shot open.

McIntyre blinked owlishly a couple of times before his eyes fixated on Kurt, furrowing his brows and opening his mouth. «Hello?» he rumbled as he straightened out on the couch, crinking his neck.

«Hello. I’m Kurt Hummel. I was supposed to meet with you at four o’clock?» Kurt said, unconxiously laying on a questioning tone.

The man harrumphed. «Right. You’re the customer. Sorry. I worked the graweyard shift last night, so I’m a bit groggy». Apparently being a PI didn’t pay well enough that he didn’t have to take other jobs.

«I understand».

«Well», McIntyre said, standing up. «Step into my office then». He went through one of the two doors and Kurt followed into a room that was just as shabby as the waiting room, but this had a desk and two chairs standing on each their own side of it. McIntyre gestured for him to sit down in front of the desk while he went to the filing cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a large stack of papers.

He dumped it on the desk and sat down behind it. «I couldn’t find something on everybody, you know», he warned.

Kurt nodded, «But you found something on Karofsky and Azimio, right?»

«Yes», he pulled the two upmost folders from the bunch, pushing them across the desk so Kurt could open them and see for himself.

«Alcohol use, using fake ID’s, drug use and purchase on both. Azimio also seems to have spent some of the summer dealing drugs»

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up into the sky. He hadn’t realised Azimio was willing to do something that illegal. «His family is struggeling you know», McIntyre said. «He has five siblings».

The investigator’s eyes felt as if they were boring a hole into his forehead. Judging him.

«I don’t actually want to use the information. I just want them to leave me alone», Kurt explained, justified, lifting his head to meet the PI’s gaze.

He nodded, letting his eyes flow over Kurt’s body, taking in his slightness.

His shortness. His utter, unconceilable, gayness. «I hope they do».

***

«How was your first day of school?» his father asked as they sat at the dinner table later that day. Kurt had cooked a vegetarian lasagna, which his father and Finn had frowned at at first, but later chewed down on like hungry bengal tigers on a mountain goat.

«It was fine» Kurt answered honestly. «It was fun meeting everybody again».

Burt nodded, «That’s good then. What about you, Finn?»  
Finn shrugged. «It was good. Practice was a bit odd without Kellan and Flynn, but we’re going to start tryouts next week so the gap should fill up pretty quickly».

«Hear that son? Maybe you could give it another try» Burt mock suggested.  
Ouch. Even though he knew it had been a joke, that still stung. Kurt rolled his eyes, hoping his voice wasn’t too clipped when he answered. «Ha ha, dad. Very funny». But Finn seemed to perk up in his chair, looking over at him.

«You know, you were good. We could need you on the team» he admitted, putting another piece of cheesy pasta into his mouth. Finn had never quite mastered the art of not speaking while chewing.

«Finn» he started, giving the aformentioned a cutting look. «Football is the most heteronormative sport in the entirety of this country. It attracts a certain kind of people who I, as a gay guy, mostly just don’t seem to get along with». He sliced into the lasagna, «And I also hate football».

That seemed to shut Finn up quite well. Sometimes it just seemed as if Finn forgot all about other people’s needs, or in this case Kurt’s absolutely understandable hate for football and it’s players, in favour for cuenching his own.

Carol thankfully took up the slack when the conversation halted, nipping any awkward silence that might have been growing in the bud. Carol, with her sweet motherly ways, was apparently more interested in asking about  
Kurt’s trip to Europe than anybody had been for that whole day.

«Kurt, I hope I didn’t overstep, but during the summer I’ve been vaccuming your room from time to time like I do for Finn, and earlier today I figured I could just do it again. So I saw that you only brought one bag with you from Europe. What happened with the three suitcases you took with you on the way there?» she wondered.

«That’s fine, Carol» he reassured her, smiling. «Well, um, I sold them».  
That made his father stop in the middle of bringing the fork to his lips, leaving his hand frozen there in an awkwardly.

«You sold your suitcases? But what about your clothes? They couldn’t all fit in that…» you could almost see the light go on as he realized. «You sold your clothes?» he asked, looking unbelieving.

«Yes. I grew, so most of it didn’t fit anyway. I bought new ones». That wasn’t exactly the truth, but to be honest he didn’t want to explain how much he had changed over the summer. In truth he felt as if his brain had matured, as if the person he remembered in his memories were somebody different. Someone who might be very similar to him, but different still.

But he suspected that that were the way one always looked upon one’s past self.

«Oh. Okay, then» Burt mumbled then, still looking at him oddly.  
Carol took the chance to stear the conversation again. «Did you buy many things on your trip?»

Kurt nodded. «Yeah. I felt as though I needed to buy something from every place I went, to remember it by, you know. So it heaped up in the end. I’m actually getting some boxes sent through the mail. I calculated that that was cheaper than bringing it on the plane. So, there is a lot of clothes and decorative things, as well as books and some other random things». He smiled, thinking about how fun it was going to be to redecorate his basement room.

«Even more clothes?» Finn huffed, sounding miffed. Kurt looked at him noticing that he appeared to be finding his tale slightly appalling.

«Finn!» hissed Carol.

Kurt ignored him, looking down at his plate to find that it was empty. He couldn’t find another reason to not to leave the table. He had had just a little too much of Hummel-Hudson family dinner to last him for the day.

He stood up, taking his plate to set it in the dish washer. «I think I’m going to go pack out. I’m pretty tired» he said.

Burt rumbled, «Kurt, it’s family dinner».

«Dad. I’m tired, okay. There’s a limit to how well you can sleep sitting in a plane».

His father reluctantly permitted him to go.

Saying goodbye to Finn and Carol he went down the hallway and into his own room. Whie he went down the stairs he stopped in the middle of the room, and looked around at all the furniture he had placed around the room. The style was cold and modern. White to the limit.

Nobody he knew had the sense of style he had, but their rooms were homier, warmer. His seemed so cold now, way too similar to the hotel rooms he had spent nights in while he traveled in Italy and Spain.

It was definitely going to be fun redecorating.

He went on to the big blue bag he had placed on the bed the same morning, pulling the zipper open. He started meticulously pulling out the contents, stacking them in piles on the bed according to category. Shirts, sweaters, jeans and pants, shorts, pyjamas, underwear, swimwear, toiletries, socks, electronics, books.

Then he began moving the clothes into his closet, stack by stack. Kurt’s wardrobe was a cupboard converted to walk-in closet, and currently it was filled to the brim with clothes. He was struck with an compulsive urge to play dress up as he saw it all once again. He knew that a lot of it would no longer fit, and that a lot of it would no longer seem to suit him and he was anxious to know which.

Kurt went into the way back of the closet first, looking behind all the hangers to a shoebox sitting hidden behind them. Inside he found the black leotard he had used in the single laidies video. He chuckled, remembering how much fun that had been, but also wondering what the hell he had been thinking.

He stripped down to his boxers, pulling the leotard on and strutting out in front of the full figure mirror that covered the door of one of the closet doors.

Stretching and posing he concluded that he definitely looked better in the garment now that he had gained at least some muscle definition. He also concluded that it was too wide in the neck and that it was horribly impractical to have to take off all the clothes on your upper body just to go to the bathroom.

It was tossed carelessly to the floor, forming a No Pile that would be donated to Fretex.

Next he started on his shirts, pulling on one by one and seeing if he still liked them. Some were too tight, some were to shiny or flashy, some had stupid things written on them or stupid patterns, and some of them had just gotten too small for him. The No Pile grew and grew.

Sweaters were next. Too tight. Ugh, too long. Just plain out ugly. Sequins.

Pants. Impulse purchase. Too bright. Too tight. Leather pants? «No. Just no»

Scarves. Too thin. Too thick. Too silly.

Vests. Too small, dammnit. Gold sequins. Sequins of any kind but black.

Pyjamas. Too tight. Too childish. «Oh no, holes!»

Swimwear. Too tight. Too ugly.

Eventually the No Pile had turned in to a gigantic mountain of fabric. It probably would have been better if he had actually folded the clothes first, he thought retrospectively.

For last he had spared the real girly clothes he had, which all hung on hangers back in the closet farthest from the door. There ha had stored a handful of skirts and some dresses, together with the black corset.

He pulled that out first, trying it on. It went around him just fine, but when he attempted to tighten it, the pressure right on the soft spot beneath his ribs hurt and he couldn’t breathe properly.

He let the threading go and breathed in heavily. «Jeesus» Had it really been that painful the last time he had worn it as well? Now that he thought about it he had only worn it once. Maybe this was why.

It went in the No Pile.

One of the dresses he had to toss on sight. Sequins again. Maybe it was what Mathieu had told him, but everything he had once found boldly flashy now just seemed like a scream for attention. «Look at me» the sequined dress yelled. «Look at me!» the neon colored scarf wailed.

The other dress he kept. It was a simple black one in cotton. It went straight down, a cut that was friendly to his flat chest. Dresses that had a cut supposed to enhance the visibility of breasts, looked idiotic on men, but this one was okay. Still he would probably never use it, if not because of the stigma then because he had not to that days date found stockings that fitted a man.

He tossed two of the skirts away as well. The tulip one and the red one, but left the one in pure black lace and the blue one that went out at the thighs like one of those the Cheerios wore.

He wondered whether he’d ever really wear them, but concluded that sadly he probably wouldn’t. It was the populace as a whole who minded, it was the social norms that were so well brunt into people’s brains that they never even thought of how pointless it was to police somebody's behavior just because it was different and unexpected.

Mathieu wouldn't care if he wore a dress or a skirt. He would have found him beautiful no matter what he wore.

Karofsky probably wouldn't mind either, the jerk, an unwelcome thought said, making him cringe.

The No Pile had grown exponentionally and his closets were remarkably tidier and roomier by the time he was dome. Kurt went though his socks and underwear as well tossing the ones not fitting. You didn't give boxers to Fretex, did you?

Then he pulled on some pyjamas, leaving the No Pile to wait for the morrow.

In the bathroom he noticed many things he could have to tossed as well. He was a goo horder he realised, sadly. He had more makeup and hair products than he'd ever even tried.

It was tempting to start going through these as well. Clearing out closets had turned out to be very satisfying. But he’d let it wait on till the next day.

He cleaned up quickly, washing his face and brushing his teeth and jumped into bed. God his bed was delicious, so soft and comfy. He closed his eyes, feeling his conciousness slowly slip away. Sleep come to him swiftly with dreams of strong warm arms around his waist and a musky scent tickeling his nose.


	3. Chapter 3

He fidgeted nervously, trying to fight the urge to bite his finger nails, as he sat in front of his writing desk. A silver macbook sat open on the surface and the window of the iMail email client lit up the screen.

It was five in the morning and right then several of the football players at McKinley high were receiving an email, the same email, from one Kurt Hummel. 

In it was written the following:

«If you would like me to not post the contents of this email to Facebook as well as send it to your parents, your teacher, and anybody else I think will be interested to know about it, you would do well to heed the following advice.

\- Do not in any shape or form participate in or encourage bullying or assault.  
By that I mean all form of physical violence against other students, including trapping them in an enclosed space or touching them in any unsolicited ways. 

\- Do not steal or harm other students' belongings or lockers.  
This includes slushying

\- Do not steal and/or distribute personal info or imagery without consent of the object of the info/imagery. 

\- Do not threaten other students with violence to make them do things for you, nor for any other reason.

If you follow these guidelines I will not post any incriminating information online nor send it to your parents and mentors. 

If you do any of these things one of two things will happen:  
1) If you're lucky and the offence is minor I might give you another chance  
2) If I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t I will just press send 

I want to remind you that even though I might be playing dirty now I am not asking very much of you in exchange for silence. What I demand is not that you do anything foolish, or stupid, or mean, or humiliating or self-defeating. Nor is what I ask you to do very heroic or brave. 

I just ask that you act like decent human beings and leave people the fuck alone.

So think about it. What is the misery of your fellow students really worth to you? Is it worth having a huge fight with your parents? What about getting kicked off the team? Getting ostracised? Going to a juvi?

If the answer is no, then all you have to do is stop being a bully. And that really shouldn’t be a hard thing to do. Just stop.

Ps: I am not the only person who has access to this information, but I promise that so long as you keep your word nobody else will ever know than the three of us. 

\- theporcelainprincess@yahoo.com»

To every one of the emails he had attached a file, personalized to the recipient, which contained documentation of that person’s trespasses.

Kurt imagined the responses of the jocks, feeling an uncomfortable mix of excited and terrified. He wondered how Karofsky would react to the special little message he’d sent with the threat. 

He had bluffed and threatened to shove him out of the closet, even though in truth he could never be able to do that without feeling disgusted with himself. 

And even if he was a shitty enough person to do that he didn’t know Karofsky was gay with complete certainty. Though there had been that time before the end of last year where he swore that Karofsky were going to kiss him, but instead he had punched him in the stomach.

That and all the fucking staring. 

It had always made him uncomfortable whenever he turned to see Karofsky watching him from across the hallway. Before the incident in june he hadn’t known how to interpret the looks he gave him, but after it had suddenly clicked into place that it was one of longing. After that it had just gotten more uncomfortable to feel Karofsky’s attention on himself. 

A homophobic bully was one thing, but an aggressive piece of muscle thrice his weight trying to pull his pig tails by throwing him into lockers and dumpsters was quite another. 

So one of the things he had chosen to send Karofsky was a personal message that explained not only that he knew that he was gay and would out him if he didn’t comply, but that Kurt would never agree to date him. 

«It’s not fair of you to hurt somebody else for daring to be themselves while you don’t. It’s not fair of you to hurt somebody just because they make you feel things you don’t want to feel» he had written. And below he had added a few links to helpful resources like glsen. 

He wasn’t really that hopeful that Karofsky would click them, but his conscience demanded he did it anyway. 

Kurt had hardly hesitated at all before pressing send, but now that the last of the emails were sent he was left sitting there feeling nervous. He was dying to get to school and see whether the plan worked or whether the goons would just make his life even more miserable, but school was still several hours away. 

«Ugh» He slapped the lid shut and stood up. It wouldn’t do to just sit there waiting and making himself just more and more anxious. Since he was already up he could at least do something productive. He went into his closet and changed into a pair of black running pants and a grey hoodie. 

Quietly he snuck through the house and out the front door. He decided to run down the neighbourhood and onto the street that lead into the centre of town. He popped in his earbuds and started jogging slowly, planning to work himself up into a run. 

This early almost nobody where out, only a couple people sleepily making their way to their early shifts. Even when he turned the corner to enter the main street there were only a few milling about. 

Kurt drew no attention where he ran. He felt invisible as he went, seeing the town of Lima lying sleeping in front of him. Nobody would ever give Lima an award for beauty, but right then it held a sort of eerie potential with it’s closed up store fronts and empty streets bathed in the blue light of pre-dawn. 

His stomach grumbled, constricting painfully, as he neared the park and he decided to turn around there. Yellow light began slowly filtering in among the blue the nearer he got to home and as he stepped over the threshold sunrise had coloured it red, just like yesterday. 

It bode well didn’t it, to see two sunrises in two days, after seventeen years of seeing the sun rise only once or twice. 

He took an apple in the kitchen and went downstairs again to get ready. It was still only six, but at seven his father would wake and they would eat breakfast together. 

By the time his father knocked on the basement door he had showered, dressed, folded the clothes of the No Pile and settled them into bags, cleaned his bathroom and had enough time to sit down at his computer again, browsing environmentally friendly cars. 

«Hey, son» his father yelled as he knocked, «You have to wake up now», and Kurt shut his computer again. 

«Coming» he answered, stepping up the stairs. Burt had to take a step back, surprised, as he opened the door. He had been standing right behind it and were in danger of getting it smacked in his face when it opened. 

«Good morning» Kurt said, smiling. 

«Morning» Burt replied, looking a bit taken aback. He looked over his son once, «You’re dressed» he noted. 

«Yeah, I woke up a while ago. I guess I’ve got jet lag» Kurt said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. He had technically awoken before the alarm he’d set went off. «Shouldn’t have gone to bed that early yesterday. It couldn’t have helped any». 

They moved into the kitchen and started their usual breakfast routine, Burt pulling out the food stuffs from the fridge and laying the plates and cutlery, while Kurt made an omelet. Egg white only because of his father’s arteries. 

The omelet was sliced in half, one half conspicuously larger than the other, and lain on the two plates. Kurt managed to get some sliced tomatoes and cucumbers on the plates before his father saw, getting a slightly annoyed look in return. 

«If I asked, you would have said no» he reasoned. 

«Exactly» Burt replied, but he sat down to eat it all anyway, so Kurt took it as a win. 

«What are you doing today?» his father asked while they ate. 

You mean besides either extorting a bunch of jocks or getting the life beaten out of me? 

«Not much» he answered. «School and Cheerios. Maybe I’ll go over to Mercedes’ place». They’d talked about doing something like that, catching up with each other. Maybe having a home spa day. 

«What about you? Is there anything interesting happening at the shop today?» he wondered.

Burt shook his head, no. «Nothing out of the ordinary» 

After that they fell into silence, but luckily his father were one of the few people who’s silences Kurt could stand. 

At seven thirty he announced that he should leave. «Going early today as well?» Burt asked, eyebrows raised. 

«Yeah. It’s nice to have some time to study in the library before school starts» he said, pulling on his jacket and lifting his bag. 

Going then gave him about 45 minuted before classes started. That usually meant that none of the football players would have arrived yet, but as he turned into the driveway he saw that a single figure was standing in the empty parking lot. 

A very large and tall figure in a red jacket standing right beside the spot where Kurt usually parked. 

Kurt felt his spirits sinking, his shoulders slumping, but he pulled himself up again. It was essential that he seemed confident and in charge. He couldn’t cower, he couldn’t shuffle his feet or look down. He had to meet Karofsky with his head held high and meet his ugly glare with his own. 

He parked in his usual place and stepped out of the car, throwing his bag over his shoulder and locking the car. Turning he came face to face with a stony faced Karofsky. 

A second passed without Kurt getting a fist to the stomach or a shove. He took it as a good sign. 

«Good morning Karofsky» he said, keeping his voice calm and steely. 

Karofsky tightened his fists, looked as if he wanted to scream and punch, but wouldn’t let himself. «Is that where you keep them, the files?» he asked sharply. 

Kurt felt his knees begin to wobble, but he willed them to stop, letting a small smile fall over his face. «No, but even if I did have it there I wouldn’t tell you. I have stored copies in many places, so don’t get any ideas. And if something is to happen to me there is somebody who knows what I’m doing and where to find the copies».

Karofsky’s fists loosened and his forehead creased. «You think we would actually kill you?» he asked, sounding confused. 

«I don’t know where your limits go» Kurt answered, maybe a bit harshly. «Will you agree to my terms, Karofsky?» 

He watched as Karofsky’s jaw muscles clenched and unclenched, knowing that he’d won. The feeling of victory was almost overwhelming, endorphins flooding his nervous system and making him feel giddy. 

«You can’t know that I’m…» Karofsky started, but he couldn’t finish it. For the first time Kurt felt sorry for him, for the gay boy who couldn’t even say the word gay. 

«Yes I can» he answered. «But I don’t think anybody else does. It does more harm than good, you know, to do as you do. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘The lady doth protest too much’?» 

«What?» Karofsky said, looking nonplussed but weary. «Was that an insult?»

«No» Kurt rolled his eyes a little. «It means that if an animal were to speak about nothing else but how much it wasn’t a duck, we would suspect it of being a duck. Because it protested to much»

Karofsky still looked confused. 

Kurt sighed. «Just stop the gay bashing, okay. It doesn’t do anything to make you look more straight. And read the links I sent you. They might help»

He started walking towards the entrance of the school, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Maybe he had taken the victory dance to early. He steeled himself, but again there was no assault.

«What did you get on Azimio? He’s fucking terrified» Karofsky asked. 

That wasn’t surprising news. Kurt had expected Azimio to be the one most affected by his threat since he was the only one who had been documented doing something that could actually land him in juvi, or even prison if he was tried as an adult. 

It was surprising though, that he didn’t tell Karofsky about it. Maybe he was ashamed. Or maybe he just didn’t trust his best friend. 

«If he doesn’t want to tell you I won’t either. The deal is you leave me alone and I won’t tell a single soul. Not even other jocks» Kurt said, shaking shoving the hand off his shoulder. 

«I can’t promise for all of us» he said then, and this was most definitely a yield. 

«You don’t have to, the deal is on the individual level, not on the collective. I have one deal with you and one with for Azimio» he paused, seeing that Karofsky understood before he continued. 

«And you might not be able to promise for them all, but you do have a lot of influence. I’m giving you an opportunity to give the bullying up without anybody having to wonder why and by extension an excuse to make the campus less hateful»

Karofsky huffed. «All I have to do is let you threaten me» 

«Yes» Kurt agreed. «Just like I have let you threaten me a thousand times, threaten me to do far less benign things than just not bullying people»

And with that he made his way inside the school, feeling victorious. Karofsky was the leader of the goon squad and Kurt had just taken him out. 

***

He went into the library, finding his table from yesterday and pulling out a his To Kill a Mocking Bird from his messenger bag. He sent two quick texts before he pulled the book open and started reading. 

Kurt > M. Dane  
I think it might have worked.  
Thank you for helping. 

Kurt > Katherine  
You give excellent advice, o wise one. 

It wasn’t until his third class that day that he noticed people, more specifically jocks, looking at him. He pretended as if nothing was afoot, and waited for something to happen. But no altercation came and all he got was odd looks. 

By lunch there were even more people who watched him, glanced at him and then turned back to their friends to whisper. Mike, who he was walking to the cafeteria with noticed, but he didn’t seem to know what it was about. 

For a jock Mike was too nice, too smart and too creative to rank very high in their special hierarchy. «Is it just me or is everybody staring at you today?» he asked as they walked. 

Kurt smiled at him, a bit embarrassed. «It’s not just you. I might have done something and now the rumour of it has finally spread through to everybody». 

Mike’s dark eyebrows shot up, «What did you do?»

«I threatened Karofsky and Azimio into leaving me alone» he replied quietly, leaning into Mike a little so he could hear. 

Mike gaped a little at him, stopping up in the middle of the hallway before Kurt gently nudged him to keep walking. «You threatened them? And it worked?» 

«You sound almost more surprised that it worked than than that I did it» Kurt commented, smiling. 

«What, no…» he stuttered and Kurt laughed. 

«It’s okay. To be honest I wasn’t sure it would work either» he said, muttering the last bit. He didn’t want to seem to the jocks as if he were unsure of himself if he could help it. 

As they walked into the cafeteria Kurt was met with the view of six pair of eyes staring at him intently as he walked towards the lunch table. They definitely knew, he thought. 

When he came within five feet of the table everybody, or at least Rachel and Mercedes, seemed to start talking in tandem as if a switch was suddenly turned on, turning them into old, gossipy birds. 

«How did you…!» Rachel twattered. 

«…Didn’t you tell us?!» Mercedes quacked. 

«Wow, I didn’t catch any of that» Kurt said as he sat down in a seat beside Santana who turned towards him with a conspiratorial smile. 

«Oh, Teen Gay, we know you haven’t been completely honest with us. Getting all trickstery behind our backs. Tell us how you did it!» she demanded, jabbing him painfully in the side. Apparently it had been she who told the others. Not surprising since Santana, as a cheerio, were way more popular than the average gleek. 

He put his hands up placatingly, «Fine, Santana, I will. Just tell me what you heard first»

«Well» she started, «A little birdie told me that one Kurt Hummel had somehow gotten Karofsky to lay on his back and roll round» 

Kurt rolled his eyes. «With less metaphors, thank you. I need to know if everybody at school knows or if they just know a rumour» 

Santana rolled her eyes back at him «Carl Patterson told me you somehow threatened him. He didn’t know how» 

He nodded, «Good. I guess it’s better if fewer people know» 

«So he was right» Mercedes asked, sounding incredulous. 

Kurt smiled and nodded. «But I threatened Azimio, Behan and Rosewood too, not just Karofsky» 

A stunned silence fell over the table a second, before Artie suddenly piped up «How did you do it?» he asked, looking at Kurt with an admiring gaze. 

«Um» Kurt hesitated, looking around to see if anybody from other tables were trying to listen in. Other than the jock’s table which was situated far from the gleek table nobody seemed to be watching him any longer. 

«I used a PI, but don’t tell anybody else about it, though» he finally answered. 

«Smart» Mike commented «but why don’t you want anybody to know? That doesn’t seem to matter. It’s not illegal to hire a PI, even if you use what they find to threaten people». 

Kurt shrugged. «I just feel that the more mystery there is about how I got to the information I have the more disturbing it will seem» 

Artie, Mike and Santana nodded understandingly. 

«Excuse me, but isn’t somebody going to comment on how illegal extortion is?» Rachel suddenly said, voice like a nail against a blackboard. «If any of them go to the police you could get arrested!» 

Kurt smiled at her reassuringly. «If they do I will post the info. But Rachel, I didn’t even use my own email. And I got somebody to help me reroute it. It’s untraceable. So officially, there is no evidence I ever did anything». 

Rachel didn’t look calmer, in fact she looked even more disturbed. «This is so wrong» she muttered. 

Out of all the people who could possibly stand up for him to Rachel, Mike was one of those he expected least to. 

«Yeah, after years of bullying Kurt ruthlessly it’s just awful that those people should be threatened into leaving him alone. It’s just horrible is what it is». The sarcasm in his voice was so thick it could be cut with a knife. 

Everybody but Tina turned to look at him with gaping mouths. She just kissed him on the cheek, muttering something in Chinese that Kurt suspected to be nauseatingly sweet. 

Rachel didn’t want to comment anything else after that, choosing to eat her yogurt silently. 

«Why didn’t you tell us though?» Mercedes asked. She had kept quiet for a while, just listening, but now her voice sounded hurt. 

«I don’t know really» Kurt said. «I didn’t want to be talked out of it, I guess. And I know that you would all have tried because it was a crazy plan, and I wasn’t even forty percent sure it would work before I went to the PI yesterday and saw all the information he had collected» 

Mercedes looked to be placated by that, but she still looked at him in a way that weren’t entirely the same way she used to. The two of them really needed to do some catching up. 

«What did you find out exactly?» asked Santana suddenly, a malicious gleam in her eyes. 

Kurt shook his head at her. «That I won’t tell you»

«Aw, come on Kurt» she moaned «It’s unfair to keep all the good blackmail material to yourself like that»

«Haha, Santana» Kurt playfully swiped at her with his fork. «No, I’ll only do that if they start bullying me or anybody else again»

«Hey, Kurty? Do you want to come to my sleep over this friday?» Brittany suddenly asked. She had been sitting quietly beside Santana doodling in her math notebook, ignoring their whole conversation, but was now looking expectantly at him. 

«Sure, Brittany. I would love to» he replied looking over at Santana to see if this was somehow a Santana and Brittany thing that Brittany hadn’t really understood was an only Santana and Brittany thing. She shrugged, so he guessed it wasn’t. «Who else are invited?»

Brittany seemed to think over it a little while before pointing at them all in turn «Mercedes, Artie, Tina, Mike, Kurty, Santana, me and Rachel. And Lord Tubbington of course. Mom’s out of town so we can get wicked» She smiled mischievously.

With that the subject had been changed and even though his fellow gleeks were still glancing at him from time to time with both incredulous and admiring gazes the main topic was no whether or not Rachel should be allowed to drink alcohol. 

«You can’t come if you puke on the carpets, Rachel. Mommy will get mad» Brittany told her gravely. At that everybody burst into laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

By the end of the week Kurt had still yet to get tossed into a dumpster or shoved against a locker, and slushying at McKinley high was at the never before seen number of zero. 

And from checking up with Martin Dane, this time just going up to him in the computer lab instead of sending cryptic messages, he knew that the goon squad had stayed clear of harassing other students as well.

It feel fantastic, to notice himself slowly beginning to relax his shoulders while he walked through the hallways. Even though he might get a nasty comment here and there, he mostly felt safe from harm. 

‘Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you’ held some truth to it after all. Words could cut, but you could also shut them out. A constant fear of being physically assaulted was damaging to his health on a whole other level. 

Still, even though the slushying of gleeks had stopped, their attempts to attract new members were falling painfully short. The poster they’d hung up had been tagged and none of the people they had approached had given any more than a hesitant ‘I’ll think about it’. 

One person, Rachel told them at lunch, actually laughed out loud at her. She had apparently also gone on to say something so insulting Rachel refused to repeat it. 

But Schue, it seemed, had a plan. Evidently he had gotten his head set on getting the new kid, whom he relied upon to be ignorant of McKinley's particular machinations, to join the Glee club. 

Oblivious to how pervy he sounded he had at wednesday’s glee session told them all about how he had walked into the boys’ locker room hearing a beautiful voice singing and ended up having a conversation with a very naked and self concious Sam Evans. 

He had somehow, and no matter who you asked you wouldn’t be able to get a satisfying answer as to how, eventually gotten him to agree to auditioning for Glee club. 

Apparently he had had some help from Finn and Puck who had gotten to know him some due to their common interest in sports, Sam being one of the brand new linebackers in the McKinley Titans football team. 

So that friday after school hours the Glee club at McKinley high all sat gathered in the school auditorium, quietly watching as a pretty blonde boy sang and played guitar. 

Sam turned out to be a very good singer. Adding to that the factor of his outstanding looks, it made it absolute sense that all the girls were looking a bit googly eyed by the time he finished, and Kurt wasn’t ashamed to say he was right there with them. 

As the last tones of Billionaire faded away it was replaced by their clapping, and Sam smiled a bit awkwardly where he stood. 

«So I did good then?» he asked, and is answered by a choir of laughter from the gleeks. 

«I would say so» Schue beamed at him. «Welcome to New Directions, Sam» he announced to a new chorus of applause. 

Sam was soon enveloped in a group hug like those only the Glee club managed, Finn and Puck squeezing him so hard it was surprising he didn’t turn into a bag of mush. 

Mike, Rachel and Brittany brought up the next line of huggers while all the others chose to stand awkwardly around the huddle, instead giving a back pat or a «Welcome to Glee club» to Sam when he finally was released. 

Sam looked almost overwhelmed at all the attention, but this was Glee club for you. They were a tightly knit bunch and it wasn’t often other people joined, so when it happened they wanted to make them feel welcome. 

They were almost too friendly, Kurt noted. The smiles of Finn and Rachel were so wide it looked as if their faces were about to burst. 

But Sam just smiled. Already Kurt had gotten the impression that Sam was a guy who wanted to be friends with everybody. 

Kurt wondered how he would take getting rejected by people just because he was a gleek, but maybe, like Puck or Santana, he never would be. Maybe he was just too cool for something so little as being a member of glee club to bother anybody. 

Or maybe, because of Kurt’s extortion campaign, nobody would dare to give him any flak for it. 

By the end of the hour Sam had gotten invited to Brittany’s party, and Finn and Puck had moaned their way into coming as well. 

So when Kurt pulled up into Brittany’s drive way later that night, the party had already started. Together with Artie and Mercedes, whom he’d given a ride, he went up to the front door and knocked. 

A minute went by before Brittany laughingly opened the door, breathing a bit heavily after having run to the door. As soon as she saw them she slung her arms around Kurt. 

«You made it» he said, happily. She ushered them into the house, hugging Mercedes and Artie as they went by her. 

Brittany’s house was surprisingly ordinary. Other than a bit of an oversized collection of ceramic angel figurines the house looked as if it could have been taken out of an ikea catalogue. 

They were told to leave their overnight bags by the staircase and led into the living room where the rest of the guests had already gathered. 

Bottles of soda, beer and wine stood perched on the table, cups placed around on the floor, where everybody were sitting around in a large circle. 

«Look everybody, Kurty and Cedes and Artie are here!» Brittany yelled over the chatter of the others, gesturing to them as if they were the main event of the party. They were met by a choir of 'Hey's. 

«Any reason why you’re sitting on the floor?» Kurt asked Rachel, settling the bottle of amber whiskey he’d brought on the table. Hopefully his father would never notice that it had disappeared from his stash. 

«We’re playing truth or dare» Rachel replied, sipping from her orange soda. «But it’s special. We take turn’s figuring out questions and then everybody has to answer or do a dare. So Sam can get to know us better» She explained.

Kurt took a cup from the table and poured himself some white wine, settling himself beside Puck. It was apparently Tina’s turn to ask. «Er» she looked out into the air a while, thinking, before she asked «Who was your first crush?»

Apparently they went by the clock, making Santana the one to answer first. 

«My elementary teacher, Mr. Klausson» she answered. «What!» she said, «I thought he looked really cuddly»

Brittany followed saying «Theo, in class C». Apparently the most normal thing to answer was somebody in your grade in elementary school, as Rachel, Mercedes and Artie answered the same. 

«I think his name was Simon. He was a life guard at the beach beside our hotel when we went to Miami on holiday once» was what Kurt answered. Maybe he had always had an attraction toward older men.

He noticed that Sam, sitting across from him, looked at him oddly after he had said it, but it wasn’t the ‘ugh’ kind of grimacing look Finn was wearing. He looked curious or startled. Hadn’t he realized before now that Kurt was gay?

It wasn’t really certain that any of the gleeks would have mentioned it before to him, but Kurt had thought it to be pretty obvious. Even when he weren’t wearing obnoxiously effeminate clothes, hell even when he wore only sweats and hoodies, he had never been able to conceal the fact that he was gay. 

He was too short and slight, his voice was too high and his face was simply too gay for it to be anything but obvious. It was so obvious it might as well have been written on his forehead. 

Puck had apparently had a crush on a Ms. Karen. And scored he told them proudly, which Kurt honestly found sickening. 

Artie had been into a girl from the hospital he went to after his accident. He wouldn’t say anything else about her, but Kurt had heard it before and knew that the girl had had cancer and died a few years later. He understood why he didn’t want to tell it now.

«A girl in 8C, Sam said», blushing. He really was quite cute. 

Finn had been heedlessly in love with Lara Croft, which came as a surprise to exactly no one.

Mike mentioned a girl from his dance classes when he was six, before his parents decided dancing was a waste of time, while Tina had had a crush with her best friend in second grade. 

Then it was Santana’s turn and she asked when they had first started masturbating which left most of them blushing a little. Apparently their answers ranged from six to an astonishing fifteen years - «It’s really not that late!» Rachel insisted. 

For a game of truth or dare it was actually pretty tame, probably because you could only ask questions you were willing to answer yourself, so the only wild one’s came from Santana or Puck. 

But for getting to know Sam it was pretty damn effective. 

By the time they ended the game Kurt knew, among other things, that Sam started jacking off at age nine, that he had four younger siblings, that he had nicked a six pack of beer from his father once and gotten drunk for the first time with a couple of friends. He liked singing and playing the guitar, but hated to dance. His celebrity crush was Keira Knightly and he absolutely could not resist chocolate truffles. 

Eventually their group dissolved into factions, settling on the couch or dancing around to music in the middle of the room. Finn and Rachel waltzed slowly while Brittany and Sam, who had suddenly gotten drunk enough to dance jerked and swirled. 

Santana watched from the couch where she sat talking with Mercedes and Artie, frowning. And Artie was doing the same with Mike and Tine who had gotten sufficiently drunk now that they occupied a lazy boy in the corner of the room, making out mercilessly. 

Kurt kind of wanted to go over to them and ask them to stop torturing Artie, but he felt all buzzy and contented, and he was having this stupidly hilarious conversation with Puck at the other end of the couch. 

«So, would you by any chance be into fish lips over there?» he asked, gesturing drunkenly to Sam where he was still dancing, looking like a monkey having a epileptic seizure. 

Kurt laughed lazily, «I don’t think that’s an option, Puck» he said. 

Puck shrugged. «I don’t know. To me it feels like he’s giving off a kind of gay vibe» 

«A gay vibe? You’re delusional» Kurt laughed again. Puck became a fucking comedian when he was drunk. Or maybe he just seemed funnier because Kurt were also plastered. 

«But man, if you had to rate the people in this room after how much you would like to fuck them, he’d be second in line only to me, wouldn’t he?» Puck questioned on obnoxiously. 

Kurt snorted. «Wow, you’re funny. Puck you’re last only over Finn. Then comes Artie, because he’s like a brother to me, and then Rachel, Artie, Tina, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany, then Mike and then Sam» he listed, feeling proud that he managed it through that long speech without slurring. 

Puck frowned. «How am I lower than the cripple? I’m a fucking stud» he argued, flexing his biceps in demonstration. «Look at these guns»

«Sex demands trust, Puck» he explained, swallowing down another slurp of whiskey. «And I have trouble trusting you. Probably because you used to bully me. I wouldn’t be able to relax and then it’d just hurt»

Puck’s pupils seemed to dilate and he looked frightfully close to leaning in for something. Maybe to prove him wrong. Kurt started to giggle uncontrollably at the absurdness of it. 

«Okay, enough booze for you» he said, taking the cup out of Puck’s hand and emptying it into his own mouth before walking off to join Sam and Brittany on the dance floor, catching Mercedes’ arm as he walked by her and dragging her behind him. 

Then he took her hands in his and started swaying and swirling, moving more or less in tact with the music that streamed out of the large stereo. Mercedes started laughing, and Kurt laughed as well. Soon Puck and Santana came to join the dance floor as well, and Tina and Mike made it out of their chair. 

Only Artie remained sitting there by the low table, unable to maneuver his chair around in the cramped space. Looking at all his friends dancing around having fun he wanted to be happy for them, he really did, but all he felt was bitter and rejected.

«Aren’t you having fun?» Brittany asked frowning. She had gone into the kitchen to order pizza, but stopped when she saw Artie sitting there frowning 

«Of course I am» Artie lied, not wanting to hurt her feelings. «I’m just sorry I can’t dance with you, that’s all» 

Brittany frowned for a second before she started pulling his chair out on the floor. 

«Hey! what are you doing?» Artie asked, but she just started shoving at the furniture, pushing the table into the couch and the lazy boys into the side of the room. 

She was making more room on the dance floor, he realised, so that he could join them. 

«There» she said, looking at the now much roomier space in the middle of her living room and smiling at him. Then she took hold of his chair again, starting to push him into the midst of all their friends, turning his chair to the beat of the bass. 

By the time the pizza arrived twenty minutes later most of them had retired to the couch again, only Tina and Mike and Brittany and Kurt still keeping up the pace. 

Puck, Finn and Sam were standing by the table throwing a paper ball into empty cups, in some improvised version of beer pong while Rachel were sitting in the couch beside Mercedes and Santana, watching the two couples dance. 

«He seems happier, doesn’t he?» she asked.

Mercedes started as she spoke, having been lost in her own thoughts. «Who?» she wondered.

«Kurt» Rachel said. «Doesn’t he seem to have become happier since before the summer? More easy going?» 

«Yeah, I guess» Mercedes answered a bit confused.

«Absolutely» Santana piped in with. «Of course it’s only been a week, but he seems… Less dramatical, calmer, more resolute maybe»

Artie, who had wheeled over to them with a stack of pizza boxes on his lap, nodded. «Assertive is the word you’re looking for. And he’s talking a lot less too, have you noticed that?» 

He settled the pizza boxes on the table, opening up one and taking out a piece. «But at the same time what he does say seems more genuine. It’s like he’s simultaneously offering less of himself and giving more»

The pizza was cheesily delicious and melted on his tongue. He showed the box over to the three girls and they started eating. 

«So you think something has happened to him during the summer?» Rachel asked him, looking concerned. 

Artie considered that for a moment, taking his time to swallow before he answered. «I didn’t say that. I just think he’s changed, that’s all. And it doesn’t have to be because something happened to him. It might have been something he’s done himself»

Santana smiled. «Kurt does seem like the person to want to reinvent himself»

«But Kurt loves himself» Mercedes protested, feeling the need to defend Kurt, or the Kurt she remembered. 

«Sure he said that, but what people let you see of them isn’t necessarily what they actually are and think» Artie muttered. «When we were little Kurt always used to be unhappy about his hight, the shape of his face, even his voice».

Rachel gasped. Kurt’s voice were some of the attributes that made him an exceptionally good singer. His voice could go places so high another guy simply couldn’t do it, but if he tried he could also manage a bass voice. 

To think that he could ever be dissatisfied with it filled her with worry. 

«I think a lot of it passed over the years, especially after he came out. But I’ve always felt like he’s trying to hard, you know? And now he’s stopped that» Artie continued. 

«Guys, there’s pizza!» Finn suddenly yelled, drunker than ever and apparently having just noticed the pizza boxes on the table. 

His call brought everybody in to the sitting area and they eventually had to replace the chairs so there would be enough seats around the table.

«This is delicious» Puck mumbled around a piece of pepperoni pizza. 

«Fantastical» Kurt agreed. 

«Wondrous» Sam muttered. 

«Heavenly» Tina moaned

Afterwards they stayed there chatting lazily for a while, but soon more and more of them felt like going to bed. Brittany placed them haphazardly around the house, the boys sharing the living room while the girls slept three and two in a bedroom. 

It took some time for Kurt to get comfortable on the air mattresses that Brittany had gotten out of the cellar. Finn and Puck had called dibs on lying head to toes on the couch and he, Mike and Sam had chosen to take the floor, letting Artie get to lie in the makeshift bed of two lazy boys pulled together. 

Mike had already fallen asleep, but apparently Sam were having some trouble finding a comfortable position as well. He was trying to find a way to lie where his toes weren’t sticking out beneath the blanket and he wasn’t curling up and using more than his share of the mattress. 

«Here, let’s switch blankets. I think this one is a bit longer» Kurt offered and shoved the bundle over at him. 

«Thank you, Kurt» Sam said appreciatively, and they made the switch. Sam settled down after that, laying on his back about beside Kurt with twenty inches separating them. 

«This reminds me of hiking trips with my family when I was a kid. We had some mattresses just like these ones» Sam noted, trying to ease the awkwardness of sleeping right next to somebody who were mostly a stranger. Of all the gleeks, Kurt felt like the one whom he’d gotten to know the least. 

«Sounds like fun. We didn’t do much of that when I was little» Kurt replied. «Did you sleep underneath the stars and grill marshmallows and make s'mores?» he asked curiously. 

Sam chuckled, «We slept in a tent. But yeah, there were s'mores. As well as octopus hotdogs and baked beans right from the can»

«Octopus hotdogs?» Kurt wondered, amused. 

Sam smiled. «Yeah. You cut the hotdogs in two and then you cut into the underside to make legs» he explained.

«Limbs not legs, or arms maybe» Kurt corrected almost automatically. «Octopi have nothing that can be described as legs. But that sound’s real cute though. I’ll try that next time with the veggie dogs I try to get my father to eat» 

«Vegetarian hotdogs?» Sam questioned sleepily.

«They’re surprisingly tasty, not that my father would admit that. He won’t eat them unless I assure him they are normal hotdogs» Kurt mumbled «Apparently what you call them makes a great difference in taste»

That were the last thing either of them said before they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) I just wanted to tip anybody reading this story about All Out. All Out is a great organisation when it comes to petitions promoting LGBT rights and equality. 
> 
> Right now they have a petition going on that aims to persuade politicians in Virginia, USA not to pass an anti-LGBT bill. 
> 
> Link to the petition:   
> https://go.allout.org/en/a/virginia/?akid=4566.1518475.SRkl88&rd=1&t=4&utm_campaign=virginia&utm_content=english&utm_medium=email&utm_source=actionsuite
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	5. Chapter 5

The shop was pretty slow that morning, and there was only one car that Kurt needed to work on. Today it was only him, Finn and his father in the place and he had gladly taken the duty of fixing the car as the only other possibility was to have to show Finn the ropes. 

Apparently Finn felt he needed a steady pay to help pay for college, or gifts for Rachel or something, so he had over the summer taken up a job at Hummel’s Lube and Tire shop

It hadn’t taken ten minutes for Kurt to conclude that watching his father and Finn bond over yet another thing, a thing that Kurt happened to be exponentially better at that Finn, was only productive to inducing nausea. 

The quiet of the work shop, the mindless work of doing something he had done a thousand times before, suited him perfectly today. It felt good occupying himself with the practical tasks, it let his mind wander adrift as if he were meditating. 

He hoped Sam wasn’t going to feel odd about what happened this morning. As far as he saw it was inevitable whenever two guys slept in the same bed that one would get all cuddly in their sleep and then have an awkward problem. He was just incredibly grateful that he hadn’t been the one who turned into a Care Bear in the night. 

It was absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. It really wasn’t. Dicks could get hard for the weirdest reasons and they weren’t all sexual. Even a breeze could sometimes. 

Kurt knew that as well as any guy, so when he woke up to find something solid press into his side and an arm wrapped around his waist he hadn’t freaked or drawn any odd conclusions. He’d just gently pushed Sam’s arm off of him, sliding slowly away from under him. 

Sam on the other hand, who had woken at his movements, had looked at him with panicky eyes and flushed cheeks. He had tried to say something, but it just ended up in a pathetic choked sound.

«It’s okay, Sam. It happens» Kurt had assured him, pulling on his discarded sweater, and started cleaning up some of the cups that had been strewn about the room the night before. 

«I’m… I» Sam tried again, stuttering, but he didn’t much succeed now either. 

«It’s fine» Kurt said again. «It’s only nine forty, so you should just go back to sleep. Everybody else are still sleeping. I’m going to head out soon since I have work today» 

Then he had poked Finn in the shoulder, waking him and getting him grumbling into his car and to work, hoping Brittany wouldn’t mind him leaving without helping them clean up properly. 

Kurt rolled out from under the car, getting a smaller wrench from the toolbox beside it, then he slid back under, putting in the finishing touches. All the car needed now was a gas change. 

He pulled out from under it again and went to find his father. He had apparently went on to show Finn how to change a tire, which Finn had somehow not managed to learn yet. Apparently he had been spending most of his time behind the counter and not doing actual mechanical work. 

«When was it that the owner of the Fiat was supposed to arrive?» he asked. 

Burt turned to him «You’re done already?» Kurt tried not to get annoyed at the surprised tone he used as he said it. Didn’t his father know him well enough to know how good of a mechanic he was?

«Yeah, I was thinking of taking my break after he’s come and gotten the car» Kurt answered, maybe a bit clipped. 

His father looked at the large clock that hung on the wall, «He’s supposed to come in twenty minutes or so. You might as well just start on the paperwork» he said. 

Kurt nodded and went into the front room, settling behind the desk with the computer. He pulled his arms out of the blue overalls, tying the sleeves of it around his waist. 

Then he started typing in the receipt, detailing what it was he’d done. This was a car that had desperately needed some repairs, so the list was pretty long. 

He was still done long before the customer arrived, and as the bell over the door pinged he sat absent-mindedly playing sudoku on his phone. He perked up as he heard the noise, laying the phone down on the desk. 

«You’re the owner of the Fiat?» he asked the man who had entered the shop. He looked to be about twenty years old and was tall and broad, the tee he was wearing stretching tightly over his biceps and pecs. 

He smiled and nodded at Kurt, taking him in where he sat behind the counter. «Yeah. Brandon Collins» 

«Okay. I just finished working on your car half an hour ago. You just have to sign this and this» he laid the two printed receipts on the desk so he could see, «And then we can go get your car». 

«Okay» the man, Brandon, agreed and took the pen Kurt offered. Their hands touched momentarily as he tightened his grip around it. His hands were warm, Kurt noted. 

He signed swiftly, and Kurt led him into the shop where his car stood. Pressing a switch on the wall he opened the garage door so that Brandon could drive out. It took a few seconds.

«Was it hard to fix it? The car? I’ve been driving it all through college without taking it to a mechanic» the man asked.

«Not really» he replied, not knowing exactly what to say. He wasn’t very good at small talk, and usually the customers didn’t expect that of him. Of his father and the other mechanics, yes, but not him. 

This guy seemed very friendly though. No, more than friendly. He could feel his gaze on his body, the kind of gaze he had just begun to be able to interpret the meaning of. 

«Are you driving through or visiting family?» he questioned as the garage door disappeared entirely up into the ceiling. 

«How do you know I don’t live here?» Brandon wondered with a cocked eyebrow. 

«Do you?» Kurt went to the shelf at the wall, getting the car keys from a ceramic bowl and handing it back to it’s owner. 

«No, but you couldn’t have known that» Brandon insisted. 

Kurt smiled, «Lima has three kinds of inhabitants, those too young to leave, those who have come here for work, usually as forty plus year olds, or those who couldn’t get into any good colleges. You’re not any of those». 

«Alway’s good to know I don’t look like I’m forty» Brandon joked. «I just finished college this spring and I’m still hunting for a job. So back to the hometown it is»

«Ah, so I wasn’t that far off with ‘visiting family’?» Kurt said, feeling a bit awkward. This exchange had expanded way beyond the normal encounter, which he knew that this wasn’t. But though he was a bit at a loss as to what to say, he didn’t really mind it.

«No. But this visit has turned into a longer stay than I would have liked. Look…» Brandon started, but trailed off looking at Kurt’s chest. 

Kurt looked down as well, realizing that the guy was expecting to see a name tag, but that he couldn’t because it was attached to the chest of his overalls. 

Kurt lifted the fabric up, laying the little sign against his chest again. «Kurt Hummel» he informed.

«Look Kurt Hummel» Brandon repeated, smirking. He spoke the name as if it was some oddity. «I don’t really know anybody my own age who are still hanging around in Lima. I’m kind of lonely. So if you would let me buy you a cup of coffee sometime I’d be really grateful»

Kurt bit his lip to keep from smiling, hesitating for a moment before he chose to go for it. «Actually, I was just going to take my break. If you aren’t doing something you could join me for lunch»

Brandon nodded, ever smirking. «I’m not doing anything» 

«Well, then I’ll just have to go get changed» Kurt said, and now he was smiling. «I’ll meet you in the parking lot» he told him and went off to find his father again. 

«I’m going out for lunch now» he warned him, barely waiting for an answer before grabbing his bag and going into the small bathroom to change into jeans and a clean shirt. 

He met Brandon outside five minutes later and for a second he wondered whether he should insist on going in his own car. He decided against it. The chances that Brandon was some creep who wanted to abduct him and have his wile way with him were abysmally small. But it was still there, making his body pump out just a tiny bit of adrenaline that made his limbs buzz pleasantly. 

«Starbucks?» Brandon asked as he stepped into the Fiat he’d helped fixing and sat down in the passenger seat. 

«Sure» Kurt agreed. It was close and fittingly casual. Not as bland as going to a fast food joint, but not as intimate as going somewhere smaller.

«So» Brandon started. «I’m guessing you aren’t one of those people who stay in Lima their whole lives either. So that makes you a high schooler, right?» He looked at Kurt with an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

«Yeah» Kurt said before, as an after thought, adding «I’m seventeen» 

He watched as Brandon grimaced a little, knowing what it meant and feeling smug about it. 

«Damn. I had hoped for at least eighteen» Brandon said. 

Kurt decided against stating the obvious, that seventeen didn’t actually mean jailbait in Ohio. It would sound like a proposition. 

They turned into the parking lot in front of the Starbucks soon later and made their way inside. Kurt ordered a large caffe mochiato and a bowl of pasta salad while Brandon took only some ham and cheese toast and black coffee. He chose a table by the window, getting a view onto the street outside. 

Kurt started nibbling on his pasta, feeling his hungry stomach sigh in contention as the food slid down his oesophagus. 

«Kurt Hummel», Brandon suddenly said in a voice as if he was one of those people making voice tracks for movie trailers. «A seventeen year old boy who was able to fix my entire car. How did it come to be?»

Kurt snorted. «I work at Hummel’s Lube and Tire shop» he said, watching as the realization went up for him. 

«Oh, so you’re the owner’s son. Right» he said, looking a bit embarrassed. «I knew I had read the name Hummel somewhere before»

«Yes, on the front of the shop where you just got your car fixed» Kurt deadpanned. 

Brandon laughed a little. «What can I say, I’m a very forgetful person» he said. «So if he was at work today he’d be like yelling at me for flirting with you, or what?»

«He was at work» Kurt replied. «He was just in the other section of the shop, showing my stepbrother how to change a tire» 

One of Brandon’s dark eyebrows shot up, he had probably noted the slight change in his voice. «Stepbrother huh, that sounds interesting» 

Kurt shrugged, poking at a fusilli with his fork. «I set my dad up with a woman, and now they’re going to get married, and I’m happy for them. But her son and I just have a lot of unresolved issues that I can’t really seem to make myself let go of»

«Do you want to talk about it?» Brandon asked, and Kurt could see genuine sympathy in his large brown eyes. He really seemed like a nice guy. And really hot too, with his wavy hair and the thin layer of stubble covering his strong jaw. 

But Kurt shook his head. «I’d rather not» he said. «What about you? Is there any drama happening in your life?» 

«Nope» he answered, his mouth popping at the P. «Other than looking for jobs, I am basically doing nothing. I’m bored out of my mind» 

«Which is why you cared to flirt with me?» Kurt asked, smirking. 

«No» he protested, taking a sip of his coffee «It just might have given me the courage to. I’m not usually that forward, you know»

Kurt smiled at him and took another bite, finishing his salad. He knew exactly what he meant. 

«What about you?» Brandon asked then. «Why did you say yes to go on a date with me, a totally random customer at your workplace?» 

«I guess I just wanted to know what would happen?» Kurt said, thinking over it. «And this isn’t really a date»

«Okay, a lunch date then» He complied. «So, are you happy with how it’s gone so far?»

Kurt shrugged, «Sure» He met Brandon’s eyes over the edge of his coffee cup, noticing the same interest in them that had made him feel so special in the face of Mathieu. It was a look that seemed to say that he wanted to know you, every part of you, body and soul, that he was imagining what you’d look like naked. 

He cleared his throat, blushing slightly at his own thoughts. «So what was it that you studied?» Kurt asked. 

«I have a bachelor degree in Journalism from Penn state» Brandon answered, surprising him. «My dream is to get hired by a big time news agency like BBC or CNN, getting to go report on things as they happen. Demonstrations, wars, that kind of thing. It’s a kind of ambitious dream, I know, but…» 

He was cut off by Kurt. «Ambitious dreams are good. I should know since I want to become a full time musician» he said. «And it sounds interesting. Dangerous, but interesting» 

«It really is. I just wish some body actually needed a reporter like that, but even when they do they don’t want a greenie with no experience» Brandon sighed into his toast. 

He changed the topic a second later, saying «An artist, huh. I guess I can imagine that, what with your voice and all» 

Ow. «Yeah, I know. Not many guys have voices as high as mine» Kurt said. He wasn’t ashamed of his voice, he really wasn’t. It was what made him such a good vocalist, a thing he’d inherited from mom. 

«It’s pretty special» Brandon noted. «But beautiful»

Kurt hid his smile behind the rim of his coffee mug, taking a sip from the warm chocolaty liquid. He still wasn’t entirely used to receiving compliments, but managed a low «Thank you». 

«How long is left of your break now?» Brandon asked after a while, looking at his watch. 

«I usually take half an hour break» Kurt said, leaning over the table to look at Brandon’s watch. «Actually, I’m kind of late back» 

They had sat there longer than he’d thought, and now they had to hurry back. Ten minutes later they pulled up into the parking lot by the shop, and Kurt was about to run out the door when Brandon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

«I didn’t get your number yet» he pointed out, looking hopeful and holding out his phone for Kurt to take it. 

Kurt grinned as he quickly stored his own number, marking it as ‘Your favorite mechanic’. «Text me whenever you feel bored, okay» he said, before jumping out of the car and walking swiftly toward the shop. 

His father and Finn didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d gotten back too late, still working hard on teaching Finn to do basic auto repair procedures. Nor had they noticed that he’d not taken his own car to lunch, so they didn’t ask about it or get to know anything about Brandon. 

And Kurt didn’t really mind either, because at one point he’d found out he liked keeping some things to himself. 

***

Sunday Kurt spent studying and looking for a song to use for Glee. He finally decided on Heroes by David Bowie, hoping Schue would consider it well known enough to use. 

Brandon also texted him a picture of himself making a very disapproving face at watching Honey Boo Boo, which led to a battle about finding the stupidest TV show. Kurt still meant it was Toddlers in Tiaras, while Brandon was leaning more toward the Real Housewives of New Jersey. 

Then the next week begun and Kurt felt himself falling into routine again. A new and better routine where he felt a lot more confident. 

Brandon and he continued texting, but neither of them had suggested to meet again yet, and Kurt felt himself growing closer to Mercedes again. 

He had changed, she had realized, but she still loved him and they still had fun, so she forgave that he wasn’t as interested in going shopping with her now, that he had lost a lot of the dramatic flair he’d previously described as ‘being fabulous’. 

She might even like it better. He wasn’t as quick to gossip anymore, but he also listened to her more carefully, gave more thoughtful advice, and he did seem happier. 

But Kurt still hadn’t told her anything about Mathieu. He reasoned that it was because she hadn’t asked him much about it, about his trip or anything related to it, but the fact was that before the summer they told each other everything they felt had any importance. She would have expected him to tell her about loosing his virginity. Hell, she would have expected him to talk to her about it before it happened. 

But they had hardly talked to each other during the summer, both too busy doing things to be able to stay in touch very faithfully. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to call her either before or after if happened. 

He had planned to tell her sometime after he’d gotten home, but as the days went by and the perfect chance just never arrived, it got harder and harder. 

There was also something more urgent on his mind at the moment. 

Quinn Fabray wasn’t a person who usually appeared much in Kurt’s thoughts, but right now he was getting worried about her. 

While the rest of glee club were getting along even better than they usually would, with Rachel placated by having Finn to herself and Artie seemingly starting to recover from his breakup with Tina, instead growing closer to Brittany, there was only one gap in their collective happiness. 

Quinn had looked sad and haggard from the first day of school, and she had excused herself from Brittany’s party with a stomach bug, but at least she had been showing up to school. Up until three weeks into the new year, when Schue suddenly asked «Have any of you spoken to Quinn?» 

They hadn’t. Any of them. 

The next day Kurt looked for her in the hallways, asked for her among the students who had classes with her, but Quinn hadn’t come that day either. The third day she stayed missing he went in to ask Emma Pillswort and she found that Quinn Fabray had had abysmal attendance even before she stopped coming, showing up late almost every morning. 

After hearing that Kurt felt a flair of anger surge up. How had none of them noticed that Quinn was doing so poorly? But the fact was that most of them didn’t know her at all, and those who had had become alienated from her in some kind of way. 

She and Finn had broken up. She had been tossed off the Cheerios, no longer fitting in as Santana and Brittany’s queen bee. She and Puck hadn’t been talking to each other since they had to give Beth away, and Mercedes had told him that Quinn had slowly stopped calling her over the summer.

Quinn had apparently pulled away from everybody, and nobody had reacted to her doing it.

Kurt decided to take it up with Puck, try to get him to talk to her. Since they had gone through basically the same thing, he reasoned, Puck should be better equipped to understand what she was feeling. Even if he seemed to be doing fine, acting like his normal Pucky self. 

He waited until after the wednesday glee session, stopping beside him while he was shoving his things into his backpack. 

«Hey, Puck. Can I talk to you for a second?» he asked, adjusting the way his bag hung on his shoulder. 

Puck looked up at him suspiciously, before saying «Shoot»

«I think Quinn is having some problems» he explained. «She hasn’t been to school for the last three days»

«Three days isn’t that long, princess. She could just be sick» Puck remarked skeptically.

«Yes, but she’s been coming late too school a lot as well» Kurt said, hesitating before confessing his worries. «I think she might becoming depressed because of what happened with Beth»

Puck’s face immediately became blank as Kurt mentioned his daughter. «You can’t know that. She might just be sick» he repeated. «Didn’t she say she was sick last week when she couldn’t come to Brit’s party?» 

«That was two weeks ago, Puck» Kurt said, trying to make his voice gentle, to keep Puck from shutting down on him. «And she said it was a stomach bug. Those don’t last this long»

«She could have been wrong. Maybe it’s some other sickness» Puck suggested, but his voice didn’t sound convincing. He just really didn’t want to go see her. 

«Noah» Kurt sighed «I think she needs to talk to somebody. And I think that somebody might just have to be you»

Puck shook his head, «Look, Kurt. We aren’t friends, she and I. I don’t get why you came to me. Go ask Mercedes or Rachel. Even Finn would probably do better at this than me» It was an attest to how distressed he was feeling that he used Kurt’s real name. 

«It has to be you» Kurt repeated. «You’re the only one who knows how she’s feeling. You lost Beth together»

«It’s not the same. I didn’t carry her» Puck argued. 

«You’re right. It’s not» Kurt agreed. «But you are both hurting»

Puck glared at him. «I’m fine» 

«I don’t believe you, Puck» Kurt said, become more sure that he was right the longer the conversation went on. «Talking to you might help. To show her that she isn’t completely alone in her pain»

«No!» he replied, angrily. «She thinks I’m a stupid mutt. She’d just be angry for daring to think I could ever even experience the level of pain she’s in. And her parents wouldn’t let me in anyway»

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up into the sky. «Her parents wouldn’t let you in?»

«No they hate me for soiling their daughter» Puck claimed, frowning. «They’re über christian you know, probably wouldn’t even let you see her» 

Kurt briefly wondered whether Quinn’s parent’s knew about her issues, whether they were the cause. «We have to try anyway, Puck» he said. «If she keeps skipping school like this it’s going to mess up her future»

«Look» Puck started. «Let’s just wait and see if she comes to school this week, okay?»

Kurt reluctantly agreed, thinking getting Puck to come with him a couple of days later was better than going alone today. 

He told Mercedes about their plan to go see Quinn the day after. «Don’t tell anybody of the others about it though» he said. «Rachel would probably start to plan an intervention involving the whole glee club» 

«Yeah» Mercedes replied, looking saddened at the news. «Quinn doesn’t need that right now» 

«You know I thought she didn’t want to be friends with me anymore when she stopped calling» she admitted. «That she had used me for housing and then, when she was done with me thought I was too uncool for her or something». Mercedes smiled self-deprecatingly, her eyes glistening. «It never even occurred to me to ask her if something was wrong». 

Kurt patted her back. «Don’t blame yourself, ‘Cedes. People who are feeling depressed have a tendency to pull away from people»

«I’m coming with you tomorrow» she said, sniffing a little. 

Kurt embraced her, letting her dry her tears on his shirt. «Of course, Cedes»

So friday, when Quinn hadn’t yet showed up for school, Kurt, Mercedes and Puck gathered after glee and drove to Quinn’s house. 

True to Puck’s words Mrs. Fabray turned out to be very reluctant to let them in, eyeing Puck with a frown that could have turned fresh milk sour. But Mercedes, wonderful Mercedes, talked to her, flattered her hair and her garden, told her they were doing a project for glee, and finally she let them step across the threshold. 

They were led through a meticulously clean and luxurious home, up the stairs to where Quinn Fabray had her bedroom. 

Mrs. Fabray knocked on the door gently «Quinn, darling?» she called out. 

«Go away, mom!» a voice came from the other side of the door, a voice that was very far from the soft, polished voice that Kurt recognized as Quinn’s. She sounded as if she had had a cold, or cried. 

«You have visitors, Quinn» her mother tried, and there was a noticeable weariness in her tone. It didn’t seem as if this was the first time this had happened. 

There came a scramble from within the room, but it took a remarkably long time before the door was opened. In the opening stood a version of Quinn that Kurt had never seen before. Bushy haired and pale faced she stood in front of them, wearing a pair of sweat pants and a pyjama shirt. 

She looked at them with confusion, probably wondering why the hell they were there. 

«Hi Quinn» Kurt said, when he understood that none of the other three was going to say anything. «We came to work on the glee project we talked about on the phone. Since you didn’t show up for school today we figured you probably needed somebody to catch you up» 

Quinn nodded, clearly not buying his bullshit, but playing along in front of her mother. She held the door open for them, letting them into her room. 

The room was a mess, something which didn’t come as a surprise to Kurt. People with depression often found doing menial tasks like grooming or cleaning to be pointless, even though having the routines there actually helped giving the person a sense of control over their own life. 

As soon as the door shut behind them and they heard the steps of Quinn’s mother start to fade away she turned to them. «What the hell are you doing here!» she hissed.

Mercedes and Puck looked to be at a loss for what to say, looking around at the room, noting the clothes lying spread across the floor, the small tower of dirty plates standing on her desk, so it was Kurt who answered. 

«We were worried about you, Quinn. We noticed that you haven’t been to school this week» he said, trying to make his voice light and unthreatening. «And when I went to Ms. Pillsbury she told me that you have been absent a lot lately».

Quinn glared at him. Maybe he should have chosen to wait in the car. «So what? This is an intervention?» she accused. 

«No» Mercedes protested. «We didn’t want this to become an intervention. That’s why we haven’t told anyone of the others about this»

«What is it then?» Quinn asked sharply. She felt humiliated, Kurt realized. She felt as if they had forced their way into her safe place and attacked her while she was at her most vulnerable, not even having a layer of make up shielding her. 

«It’s making a visit to a friend who’s feeling pretty shitty» he replied.

Quinn huffed. «You don’t even like me» she said. «None of you!» 

Now there were wet tears gleaming in her eyes, a treacherous droplet escaping and running down her cheek. Whether they were tears of frustration or anger or hurt, or a mixture of all three, weren’t easy to tell, but it made Kurt’s heart contract painfully all the same. 

He knew with full certainty that Quinn believed what she was saying. It was a thought that he easily recognized from his own mind, from times when he had felt the lowest. A thought that could only seem true when you were at your lowest. 

Mercedes gasped, shocked at both what Quinn had said and seeing her cry. Quinn had always seemed so strong to her. 

«Quinn, you know that’s not true» she said, stepping closer to her as if to hug her. Quinn sobbed and pulled away like a frightened animal. Her hand shot up in front of her mouth, as if to keep the noises from exiting. 

Puck looked lost where he stood at the door, unmoving, like he had been since they entered. Kurt lay a hand on his arm, tugging at him to make him move towards the girls. 

He walked uncertainly forward, but him Quinn didn’t shy away from. She let him envelop her in a tight hug, using his neck to hide her face in. 

Mercedes followed suit, wrapping her arms around the both of them, whispering «It’s okay, it’s okay» into Quinn’s hair. Only Kurt is left standing on the outside, feeling unsure whether or not he should join the hug. 

On the one hand he wasn’t really a close friend of hers, had even once seen her as an enemy. He still thought she was kind of a bitch, even though he now knew she had her reasons. 

On the other hand he really did care about her and wanted her to get well. And he did sort of like her despite her bitchiness and thought that, maybe in the future, they could become friends. 

He made a decision and went over to them, laying his arms around Quinn and Puck’s backs. «Quinn, you’re smart and pretty and interesting. And despite what you think you are loveable. And you’re loved by many many people» he muttered, hoping some of it would get through to her. 

They stood there like that for a while, locked in an embrace, while Quinn’s sobs slowly turned into heaves and sniffles. When she finally lifted her head from Pucks shoulder, red with tear tracks as it was, they loosened up, Mercedes and Kurt stepping back a little while she rubbed her hands against her face. 

«I’m such a mess» Quinn said tiredly. «I hate that you’ve seen me like this»

Mercedes smiled at her. «Girl, you don’t have to feel embarrassed in front of us. We don’t care that you just cried your heart out or that your hair looks like a rat’s nest or that you smell rank» she said light heartedly. «We’re here for you» 

Quinn grimaced at the description, but she didn’t look insulted. 

«When was the last time you ate something?» Kurt asked gently. 

She shrugged. «This morning I guess. I’ve just been sleeping a lot today» she replied. 

«Okay. Maybe you could go take a shower and then we’ll tidy up a bit here and get us something to eat?» he proposed then, guessing that Quinn might feel a lot better when she’d gotten cleaned up a bit. 

But she frowned at him. «You don’t need to do that. I’m not an imbecile, I can clean my own room». It was so very proud and so very Quinn that he was almost happy to hear it. 

«We just want to help, Quinn» he said, getting support from Mercedes.

«Yes» she said. «Just let us help. And it’s not as if it’s better sitting around in a clean room watching movies than in a pigsty like this»

Quinn looked confused at that. «What?»

«We’re going to watch movies» Mercedes repeated, holding up the bag she’d let go of at the door. «I’ve brought facials, chips, dip and as many Nic Cage movies you can stand» 

Kurt didn’t really get the Cage thing, but apparently it was just what Quinn needed to hear to agree. She found herself some clean clothes in her closet and went to the bathroom, while they went to work on cleaning up her room. 

An hour later Quinn walked newly showered and primped into her room finding that all her dirty clothes had been restricted to one pile on the floor and that Mercedes, Puck and Kurt had sat down on her newly made bed with a tray of sandwiches standing next to them and facials on. 

She burst into laughter the moment she saw them, because facials and Puck were two things that didn’t really mix. Not that anybody ever looked good in facials, but Puck looked hilarious with his big masculine mohawk sticking up above his green mush covered face.

Unbeknownst to her that was actually the reason Kurt and Mercedes had managed to talk Puck into putting it on; to make her laugh. 

«Looking good, Puck» she said and settled down in between him and Mercedes. They had rigged her computer screen up onto a table in front of the bed. Mercedes pressed the start button and Con Air began playing in front of them. 

During the evening they went through four Nic Cage movies, two shitty ones and two good ones, true to the Nic Cage mythos. They ate an critically unhealthy amount of chips with dip and they laughed a great deal. 

Quinn and Puck did not have the planned and prepared for talk about Beth, but if Kurt interpreted the way she leant her head on his shoulder as she begun to get sleepy, it wasn’t really necessary. They communicated well enough without words.


	6. Chapter 6

During the next weeks he and Mercedes made a concious effort to make Quinn, who had fortunately started coming to school again, feel included. She became a quasi permanent fixture beside them as they walked to and from classes, sat in the cafeteria and in glee. 

She was quiet most of the time, not joining in the conversation as often as them, but she paid attention, coming up with strikingly apt comments at times. Although her mask was mostly up again, her voice and face smoothed out, Kurt felt he could tell that she appreciated their relationship. 

Mercedes and her grew close again, like they had been, fitting together as well as they had before. They had many of the same interests. Both loved shopping and bad romcoms, and they got each other in that way only two people of the same gender can. 

Kurt and Quinn didn’t fit as effortlessly, but somehow it worked and Kurt was happy to find out that Quinn was sharply intelligent and was sometimes interested in talking about things he rarely could with Mercedes, like politics or religion. 

Quinn was also many times more observant than Mercedes was, or maybe she was just less preoccupied with thinking about her new boyfriend, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that it was she who finally figured out about Brandon. 

«Who is ‘The Steamy Journalist’ she asked, having watched a message beep into Kurt’s phone where it lay on the table between them. They were studying in Kurt’s kitchen, for once without Mercedes who was doing something at her church. 

Kurt couldn’t help but smiling before he answered. «It’s just this guy I met a couple of weeks ago» he ended up saying. 

«A guy?» Quinn quirked an eyebrow. «A guy who sends you pictures of his junk?» 

«What?!» He gaped, his fingers darting to the phone, checking the message. A picture of an green smoothie of some kind, with an undertext saying ‘healthy and delicious’ with a winkyface. 

«You lying witch!» he exclaimed.

Quinn just laughed. «Oh, I so got you there. Now I know you’re flirting with him. So who is the guy?» 

Kurt sighed, running a hand through his hair. «You know, we’re supposed to be doing homework» he tried, but Quinn just shook her head. 

«Not until you’ve told me who this guy is» she smirked. 

«Fine» Kurt relented, giving a slight eyeroll. «I fixed his car two weeks ago, and he flirted with me and asked me out for coffee so we went to lunch. And after that we’ve been texting regularly» 

«And?» Quinn asked, gesturing for him to continue. 

«And nothing. We haven’t seen each other again since» 

Quinn sighed, looking at him as if he was being dense. «And what’s his name? How old is he? How does he look? Why haven’t you seen him again? Do you like him?» 

Kurt held his hands up placatingly. «Okay. His name is Brandon Collins. He’s twenty two, I think, since he’s just out of college. He’s hot. Very hot, and we haven’t seen each other because he hasn’t asked me out again» 

He would have never dared to tell her about it, but right then Quinn looked like a grinning jackal. «So you do like him. Even though he’s five years older than you»

«Yes» Kurt said. «I think I like him»

«But you haven’t seen him again because he hasn’t asked you» she frowned. It felt like some kind of accusation, but he didn’t really understand what she meant by it. 

«Yes»

«Give me your phone» Quinn said, but she didn’t wait for his consent before she grabbed it. 

«Hey! What are you doing?» he protested, making a half hearted attempt to take it back. She pulled it away, starting to tap on it and in curiousity Kurt got up from his chair and stood behind her, watching as she read through his and Brandon’s message logs. 

«You really should ask before you…» he began, but was interrupted by Quinn sushing him. She went on for a while, almost the entire log, before she spoke again. 

«Kurt, there’s like a million set ups in here. He’s been been basically handing you easy ways to ask him out and you haven’t done anything about it» she announced. 

«What? No» Kurt protested. 

Quinn rolled her eyes. «See here?» she asked, scrolling down to one particular message. «Here he’s telling you how much he’d like to watch the new Star Trek movie, and then you’re telling him you’d like to watch it too, but neither of you actually asked!»

Kurt grimaced «Yeah, I remember that. I was really sure he was going to ask me to go see it, but then he didn’t» 

Then she snorted, apparently unable to decide whether she should be amused or dejected at his stupidity. «It’s as if, since you were waiting for him to ask you out, it seemed he was dangeling a treat in front of you, but never giving it to you, while to him it seemed he was trying to give you a treat, but you weren’t interested» she giggled. Apparently she had decided it was funny. «So none of you ever did actually ask the other out, and you got nowhere». 

«Fuck» Kurt muttered. She was right. Here he was, every time his phone plinged with a new message, waiting for a guy he liked to ask him out. He hadn’t even thought of doing the asking himself, hadn’t thought that Brandon might be hoping for Kurt to ask him. 

Quinn was still giggeling at him, but managed a derisive «You think?» 

Kurt his phone back, sitting down again at the table. The next time they texted he would have to be alert, he would have to make himself ask him out. Because he wanted to, didn’t he? He wanted to see where this little flirt could be going. 

Slowly Quinn quieted down, going back to gazing into her english textbook. But soon she turned back to him. «Why doesn’t Mercedes know about him?» she asked. «I thought you two told each other everything». Her voice didn’t hold any blame. 

He sighed, shrugging. «I don’t really know. Lately it just hasn’t seemed natural to tell her everything that happens to me. And she has been a little preoccupied with David so she hasn’t been as interested in knowing as she was before»

«Okay, I get that. But you know that if she finds out you’ve been basically dating somebody without telling her anything about it she’ll be hurt» she said, stating what Kurt has already known. «You have to tell her about him soon» 

Kurt nodded. «I will. Just… You won’t tell her will you?»

She shook her head, «No. Of course not. But you have to»

«I will. Just let me do it in my own time, okay?» he demanded. 

«Fine. But soon» Quinn warned. 

They both went back to their homework, settling back into comfortable silence. Kurt felt confident that she won’t tell Mercedes anything. Despite Quinn being a notorious gossip she was also had a good heart, and she was his friend now. She might have gotten pleasure out of creating a rift between him and Mercedes before, but now he didn’t think the thought even occured to her. 

Quinn asked to stay for dinner the way she sometimes did and she ate beef stew with Kurt and his father. Despite her improvement in the later weeks she was far from being okay, and she seemed to dislike having to communicate with her mother, choosing instead to stay away from home. 

None of them knew what she had been up to those days when she was gone from school either, even though she must have been doing something to trick her mother into thinking she had gone to school. Kurt would ask, but he knew that out of the three people Quinn now spoke to, he was the least likely to get an answer. 

So instead of talking about that they talked about easy things, school and grades and glee, or just stayed silent during the time that Quinn spent there. They watched trashy tv and listened to music until Quinn finally left as the clock neared ten. 

«There is something strange about that girl, isn’t there?» Burt had asked as Kurt had been returning from showing Quinn out. «Her eyes are too sad for sitting in a teenage girl’s face» he said.

«Dad, Quinn was the girl who got pregnant last year. She had to give the baby up for adoption» Kurt explained, guessing that Burt probably didn’t remember that much about her. She hadn’t really been a subject of conversation in their house. 

That was all that needed to be said for his father to understand. «Poor girl» he murmured.

***

It’s feels pretty odd in those instances when you think about doing something and that actually happens without you having to take any action. Like when you are about to call somebody, but they call you first. It’s odd, but statistically it’s not that weird or seldom. It’s not some sign of the existence of fate, it’s just that statistic, that one in x, actually happening. 

So it wasn’t really that odd that the day after talking about asking Brandon out he ran into him at the grocery store. That didn’t mean that it felt any less starteling or profound though, when he suddenly felt a hand tapping on his shoulder as he stood by the dairy isle. 

«Hey» Brandon said as he turned around. He was looking as gorgeous as he had that sunday when they met, looking effortlessly stylish even with his brown locks ruffled and his casual grey hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. 

«Hi» Kurt exclaimed, smiling at him and awkwardly shifting the packs of yogurt and milk around in his hands. «Didn’t expect to see you here» 

Brandon smiled back. «Yeah. I was sent to do the shopping by my mom. Something about making myself useful» He waved a piece of paper that he was holding. «Got a list and everything»

«You must feel so adult» Kurt remarked, wagging his eyebrows a little. 

Brandon laughed, «I do, yeah. Though I did sneak some choco puffs in there» he stage whispered. 

«Well, if choco puffs isn’t the food of the gods, then the universe is just wrong» Kurt joked and smiled at him, steeling himself a little. This might not be the setting he had thought of asking in, but now that he was already here… 

«You know, I’m glad I bumped into you» he said, hoping his voice didn’t tremble. This was new for him. «I wanted to ask if you wanted to see that movie you told me about a while ago» 

Brandon’s eyebrows went into his bangs and for a moment Kurt was worried that he’d reject him, but then he broke out into a big grin. «I would love to. What about expanding it to dinner and a movie?» He asked. «To be traditional, you know» 

«Okay» Kurt replied, and was about to ask him what time would suit him when his eyes caught sight of somebody standing by the meat aisle watching them. As he met Burt’s eyes, he started walking towards them, a sour look on his face. 

«Brandon, I’ll text you later. I need to go now» he quickly said, going to meet his father half ways. He felt Brandon turn beside him, but he fortunately didn’t say anything. He had probably also noticed the stern looking bald man heading towards them. 

«Hey dad» he said, smiling, as he came up to his father. Putting the milk and the yogurt in the cart he asked «Did you find everything already?» 

«Yes. Who was that man?» Burt demanded, not as easily sidetracked as Kurt would have wished. He glanced towards where Brandon had stood, relieved to see that he had gone. 

«Oh, he was just one of our previous customers. I fixed his car» he replied, deciding against playing dumb. He would speak the truth so long as he didn’t have to say that they were going on a date. That would never go over well. 

«He looked a little friendly for a customer» Burt noted, looking suspiciously around after Brandon. «Do you want me to go tell him off?»

«What?» Kurt exclaimed, a bit shocked. «Why the hell would you do that? He didn’t do anything» Had the two of them really been that obvoious? 

Burt harrumphed. «He is a grown ass man and he was flirting with you, son. I know you’re very clueless about these things, but that guy shouldn’t be flirting with kids as young as you» 

They fortunately reached the check out before Kurt had the chance to angrily spill out how non-clueless he was about these things, but Kurt was still feeling deeply isulted as he shoved their purchases into plastic bags. He didn’t even care that some of the eggs probably broke because he handled them too roughly. 

Seething he buckled the seat belt in the car, and as his father sat down inside, turning on the vehicle, he suddenly couldn’t hold in his comments anymore. 

«I’m not a child, you know» he said, almost spit out, as they took off down the street. 

Burt turned to look at him, surprised. «No, of course not. But you’re way too young to…» he started, but corrected himself «You’re way too young for that guy. You need somebody your own age»

What was it he was going to say that he didn’t, Kurt wondered. 

«Look, son» Burt said, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. «I know you probably thought he was just being friendly, but when a man looks at you like that it’s not because he want’s to be your friend, or your boyfriend. That man just want’s to… to…» 

As burt struggled with finding the appropriate words Kurt’s anger faded, and in it’s place came a silent dread, an uncomfortable realisation. 

«To fuck me?» he suggested, and watched silently as his father spluttered in indignation, pulling on the wheel so tightly their car swerved a little. He looked as if the thought actually pained him, being presented unveiled by softening metaphors. 

«To use you» Burt finally decided on when his breathing evened out. It was hard to say whether he was offering it as more fitting word or as a metaphor, if the two words were indelibly joined in his mind. 

They probably weren’t Kurt concluded. Burt fucked Carol, didn’t he? He had most certainly fucked his mother. He couldn’t have done that if he thought of it as using them, so why should it be any different for him?

Other than that he was his child. 

And that he was a boy.

The trip stayed uncomfortably silent the rest of the short way, Kurt not wanting to speak and his father not knowing what to say. 

Kurt helped to put the groceries away before he retreated to his room in the basement, pulling his phone out of his pocket as soon as the door shut behind him. He had gotten a new text shortly after they’d left the supermarket.

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
So that was your dad, huh :S

Kurt felt the corners of his lips pulling upwards. Brandon was always so easy going, even when he was texting awkwardly. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
Yeah. Sorry about that. I just didn’t want to have an awkward situation. 

Despite the text from before being from more than half an hour earlier he answered Kurt’s text within seconds. 

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Not out yet?

Kurt laughed. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
I’ve been out since I was about three years old.  
No, I just don’t think he’ll like me dating older.  
Or anybody, really. I don’t think he want’s me to date, period.

The next reply beeped in a lot slower, as if the author had to consider it carefully before he wrote it out. 

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Do you think it’s a bad idea to date me? I am 5 years older, you know.

Kurt typed out an answer quickly and truthfully, but as he looked at the message he flushed, hesitating. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
No. I don’t mind that you’re older. Older usually means nicer, the way I’ve experienced it.  
And I don’t think my father cares that much about your age either. He just doesn’t want me to have sex.

Finally he just sent it, hoping it wouldn’t seem like a come on or somehow to intimate. It wasn’t supposed to be that, it was just the truth as he saw it. 

Brandon’s message came sooner than the last, desperate to reassure. 

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Kurt, I won’t deny that I want you, but when I asked you out I didn’t have sex in mind. I just want to get to know you and have fun. 

Kurt’s anxiousness melted away into a pleasant warmth, a happiness swimming through his body. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
I know. And this time it was me who asked you out, remember?  
Was this the reason you were so reluctant to ask me out a second time, btw? That I’m younger?

Almost one minute this time.

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Sort of. I figured if I didn’t ask you out you would either ask me out yourself, proving that you were interested, or you wouldn’t, proving you weren’t that interested.  
I just didn’t want to pressure you, but your age might have been a factor, yes.

As he read it he felt an irritated furrow appear on his forehead. Annoyance with both himself and Brandon.

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
I was expecting you to ask me out again. It was only because a friend pointed out that it seemed as if you were wanting me to that I realised I should.  
So if I hadn’t asked you out it would have been because I’m not used to asking people out, not because I didn’t want to go out with you. 

It was so silly. They had both gone on, being worried that the other person wasn’t interested. 

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Point taken. From now on there will be no more silly shyness on either side of the screen ;)  
When do you want to see the movie anyway? There is a screening on both friday and saturday.

Kurt smiled, amused, while typing in the reply. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
Saturday. I have family dinner with my stepfamily on fridays. Did you have a restaurant in mind?

Brandon had apparently already planned which restaurant to chose, typing quickly.

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
There’s a small place, newly renovated, in a nook by main street. I like to sit there and fill out my job applications. Not very fancy, but very good food. Small and cozy, and a short walk from the cinema. 

That sounded good. Not too popular probably, so less chance of running into people like you would at Breadstickz. He hoped they had tasty desserts. 

Kurt > The Steamy Journalist  
Sounds nice. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. Then we have one hour and a half before the movie begins. 

Soon after came a single small word. 

The Steamy Journalist > Kurt  
Cool

That was the end of their conversation, and Kurt put the phone away, going upstairs to make dinner with a smile playing at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, which is one of the reasons why I hesitated to post it for so long, but I think I prefer getting on with the story over perfecting it. Especially since it's not the only thing I'm working on. Hopefully the next update won't be as long coming.
> 
> have a bun 
> 
> (\/)  
>  (. .)  
>  O-O


	7. Chapter 7

7:

Today he had to tell Mercedes, Kurt told himself as he walked along the corridors of McKinley that Friday morning. If he didn’t, it would somehow become a greater crime, seeing as he would the day after be going on a second date with Brandon, making the thing he was not telling Mercedes about into not one lunch and some texts, but two dates.

He had planned to do it on Wednesday, the day after he and Quinn spoke about it. But despite feeling Quinn’s blue eyes on him while they were together, urging him to say something, the time just hadn’t ever seemed right.

Mercedes was so happy and bubbly over Daniel, whom she had met up with at church, that she hardly paid any attention at all to anybody’s voice but her own. She spoke in a heavy stream, and it wasn’t easy to butt in with anything other than «Aha», «Yes» or «Ooh».

Thursday he felt it was even harder, though he couldn’t have said what had changed, because everything was the same from the day before. And again he ended up not saying anything.

He planned to, and then didn’t because his throat tightened, or somebody else spoke, or there was a noise or a silence that made it feel impossible.

But now he had to do it, finally. No excuses, no delays. He was going to do it that day at lunch.

His mind was distracted by the thought of telling her through all his classes before lunch time. He would try to engulf himself in what the teacher or his books were saying, but then his thoughts would fly to her and he got anxious, making it even harder to concentrate.

It wasn’t like that was a large problem for Kurt. He was a good student and he would doubtlessly recover from one bad day, but it was nerve wracking all the same. By the time lunch swung around he was dreading meeting up with his best friend.

Preemptively he had asked if Mercedes wanted to eat lunch in the library with him and Quinn, saying that he wanted quiet to work on some English lit assignments they all had. So when he and Quinn walked into the library, she was already sitting there at the table in the back, doodling in one of her notebooks.

«Hi» she said as she noticed them approaching. They greeted her in return and sat down on either side of her, being silent for once as they started eating.

Just as Mercedes seemed to draw breath to start talking about something or other, probably Daniel again, Kurt interrupted, spurred on by Quinn’s hard gaze.

«I’m going on a date tomorrow» he announced, watching Mercedes cautiously for her reaction as he did.

She froze for a moment, staring at him open mouthed, gaping in a way that reminded him comically of a fish. Then she visibly pulled herself back together, though keeping the incredulous look in her eyes.

«With who?» She asked, but followed it up with another question before he was able to respond. «Is this something to do with your crush on Finn again?» Her brows were wrinkled into a frown.

A pang of indignant, embarrassed hurt speared it’s way through him before he was able to shield himself. He hated being reminded of that - how foolish and egotistically he had acted. How he’d gone to such lengths just to get a boy to notice him - a straight, stupid, bully of a boy.

«No» he said, trying to keep the vitriol out, and his voice light. «It’s nobody you know, ‘Cedes. It’s a guy I met about a month and a half ago. He came into the shop at the beginning of the year, you see. For his car…»

Kurt proceeded to tell her about how he met Brandon, his looks, his age, his demeanor - how he had asked him to lunch and they had shared their numbers.

«So we have been texting back and forth pretty regularly since then, but I wasn’t sure it was going to lead to anything else. Then, about a week ago I met him randomly while I was out shopping groceries and he asked me out» he explained, smiling slightly at the memory.

Looking up at Mercedes he saw her looking at him with a rather puzzled look. «You didn’t tell me…» she starts, trailing off when she seems to realize she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

«Yes. I’m sorry about that, ‘Cedes. When I first met him it didn’t really seem to be that much to tell…» Mercedes regained her disbelieving stare.

«And maybe I thought it was kind of nice to keep it to myself» Kurt added hastily. «Anyway I thought I should tell you now since it’s a real date now. Like dinner and a movie date»

Kurt picked at his pasta salad with his fork, stealing a pleading look at Quinn. She seemed to understand him, giving a slight smile and a nod - no reason to tell Mercedes that Quinn had known before her.

«Wow» Mercedes said after a pause. «That’s unexpected» she still looked decidedly confused. «But good, right? Though he’s kind of old isn’t he? Twenty three?»  
  
«Um, yeah it’s good» Kurt smiled a bit awkwardly. «And I don’t mind his age much. I’m seventeen anyway. Not like he can be arrested for statutory rape» he joked unthinkingly.

There was a choking sound just as Kurt pierced one of his cherry tomatoes with his fork. He looked up to see that Mercedes was choking on what appeared to be nothing but air, red faced and again staring.

He really wished she would stop it with the staring.

«Are you okay, Mercedes?» Quinn asked softly, smiling in a way that somehow, despite her perfectly angelic expression, seemed wolfish.

Mercedes coughed a few times before she again spoke. «You think he want’s to sleep with you?» she asked, confusion and disbelief coloring her tone.

Kurt frowned at her, feeling as if her reaction was unwarranted and, if he were quite honest, insulting. «Well, yes. I hardly think he’d asked me out that first time if he hadn’t already thought I was hot» he tried.

«But he’s not dating me for that if that’s what you mean. He’s lonely - he’s far away from the rest of his friends. I bet he’d think of sex as a bonus though» he added thoughtfully, popping the round little fruit into his mouth and crushing it with his teeth, savory juice filling his mouth.

She just nodded in response, looking conflicted, but choosing to busy her mouth with eating over talking.

For a while the only sound among them were the awkward sounds of silent chewing and swallowing, before Quinn, angel as she was turning out to be, spoke up.

«So how are things with Daniel, Mercedes?» she asked, and in a few heartbeats the tension was gone, Mercedes wearing pulsating, hot pink heart eyes once again.

Kurt shared a quiet smile with Quinn over the table, conspiratorial and grateful.

  
***

  
A little later that day, just as he had arrived in the boy’s locker rooms and sat his gym bag down onto the wooden bench furthest into the corner, he received a call. He had come early, making his way there just as the bell had rung signaling the ten minute break between periods had started, as he liked to be done changing before the other students milled in.

He intended to let it go to voicemail, but as he picked it out of his jacket pocket he saw the caller id and stopped himself, a smile suddenly tugging at his lips.

«Hello, Mathieu» he said, laying the phone up against his ear after tapping the green icon.

«Bonsoir, mon chérie» Mathieu replied, and it was obvious that he was grinning. It was good to hear him after not communicating verbally since they had last been face to face. They had said they’d Skype, but till now their contact had been restricted to Facebook messages and emails.

«It’s been too long, hasn’t it?» Mathieu remarked, sounding as calm and sensual as he always had to Kurt’s ears.

«Yes, definitely. We said we’d keep in touch» Kurt replied, a bit of a teasing whine in his tone.

«Apparently it’s not as easy as one imagines» Mathieu said. «But it is good to hear you again any how. Even though I would rather you were here with me and not on the other side of the Atlantic»

Kurt laughed. «Yes, I know. How much is this costing you anyway?»

«I don’t know. Probably the skin off my back» he joked. Mathieu was wealthy, a son of a business mogul, never having wanted for anything material in his life.

«It must be some reason why you are calling me now, though, no matter how much I enjoy hearing from you. Is everything okay?» he wondered, switching to french as he heard the clatter of encroaching footsteps, the door falling open a moment later to let in the bunch of boys with gym bags slung over their shoulders.

They largely ignored him, although he felt some eyes burning into his back as he ignored them in return. Most of them held their distance, keeping away from his corner. If Mathieu hadn’t called he would probably have been out in the gym already, not having to worry about homophobic assholes.

«No, everything is all right» Mathieu replied. «I just needed to talk to you about something»

A bag landed with a hollow thud beside his own, bridging the gap between him and the others. Kurt looked up, puzzled to see Puck there, in the process of tearing his shirt over his head. He adverted his gaze again.

«Sorry, but I’m actually at school right now. So you’d better make it quick or we can talk later» he said, speaking more quietly into the mic.

Mathieu swore. «I’m sorry about that. I should have thought, but it’s just… Well, I was having a new friend over - somebody who works in a photographic magazine where they sometimes feature young artists» He spoke quickly now, nervously and almost too swift for Kurt to mentally translate and comprehend. «She wanted to look at some of my photos. I was thrilled of course, so I showed her around my atelier, showed her some of my digital work. And while I was showing her something on my computer - and I swear this was an accident, I clicked the wrong folder, opening a cache of my photos of you»

The blush that swept over him felt as if it engulfed his entire body, and self-consciously he knew blood was curling pinkly over his face, neck and torso. «Oh» he muttered, blue eyes widening.

«I’m sorry. She didn’t see any of the more… sensual ones. She only saw the ones I had been working on, and not for very long. I closed the window as soon as I saw my mistake, but she liked them» he said, awe breaking into his voice as he said the last words. «She really liked them!»

Kurt felt a smile spread over his face despite his mortification. This was something Mathieu had dreamt of for years - being discovered. It might mean gallery exhibits and feature pieces - fame, but most of all it meant Mathieu might finally get confirmation for all his hard work.

There wasn’t a trace of hesitation or doubt in his voice when he spoke again. «You can use them, Mathieu»

He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before Mathieu spoke once more. «You don’t have to decide now, you know. I just had to tell you»

«You can use them, Mathieu» Kurt repeated, this time adding «But I do want to be fully informed about what happens, and able to veto a picture if I find it necessary» as he smiled.

Mathieu sounded as if he was about to burst with elation once he again composed himself enough to speak. «Thank you, thank you! You’re amazing! If you were here I would kiss you right now!»

Kurt laughed, a hybrid of a giggle and a chuckle muffled by his hand over his mouth.

He felt the gazes on him again, this time at his side, and he looked up, catching Puck looking at him with narrowed eyes and a confusing smirk.

«Gonna get dressed or are you going to play dodgeball in denim?» he muttered, low enough for nobody else to hear, either Mathieu or any of the other boys who like Puck were almost fully dressed in gym wear.

«Can we talk more about this later? I have to get changed for gym class» Kurt muttered into the phone, catching it between his shoulder and his head as he kicked off his shoes, trying to speed up a little.

«Of course!» Mathieu laughed again, a heady laugh almost like the one of a man high on psychedelics. «You’ll Skype me, yes?»

«Okay. Bye!» Kurt said, ending the call and shoving it in his bag, pulling his pants down as quickly as he could manage and getting the other clothes out.

Most of the others were either gone or on their way out the door by then, but to his surprise he noted Puck was still standing there a few feet to his left as he changed.

«So» Puck drawled, grinning at him as he tied the last of his shoe laces and turned to walk out the door. «Who was the french guy?»

Kurt rolled his eyes as he went, Puck keeping pace with him easily. «A friend» was all he answered.

Puck wasn’t contented by that. «A friend friend of a friend friend?» he asked, still smiling like a cheshire cat.

«I don’t even know what that means» Kurt said, trying to sound irritated even though he was way too giddy still. «A friend from my summer holiday» he clarified a beat later.

He turned up the pace as he saw the rest of the class ahead, all standing at attention in one corner of the gym, Coach Beiste at the front looking grim.

«I mean» Puck murmur-hissed, leaning into him as they walked so that his mouth was almost touching Kurt’s ear. «Was he the one who did the deed? Plucked your cherry? Dove into your uncharted waters?»

Kurt would have tried to say something like «I don’t know what you’re talking about», joining it with a mysterious little smile and a collected sniff of theatrically indulgent disdain, but the effect would have been ruined as he tripped over his own feet in shock.

He would have fallen on his face if Puck hadn’t gripped his shirt and hauled him upright. «Woah, there. Didn’t mean to do that»

«How did you know?» Kurt hissed at him, more confounded than embarrassed.

«I didn’t» Puck smiled a revoltingly smug grin. «I suspected ever since the party though. And now you confirmed it»

Kurt, having collected himself at least a little gasped in mock (or maybe not that much mock) horror «What a big, fat gossip you are, Puck! I can hardly believe it»

Puck only smirked, «Not a gossip, just somebody who likes knowing shit, s’all» he muttered. «Your secret’s safe with me, Princess»

And then he fucking ruffled Kurt’s hair and winked at him, turning to join the rest of the class for the ear full they were surely about to get for being late.

Kurt reluctantly followed, thinking - _Of all people, it just had to be him, didn’t it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been too long, I know. Only excuse I have is that I am a procrastinator of epic proportions who still always feels as if there's not enough time. I am going to start posting again now, though I don't expect I'll post more often than once a week (at most). 
> 
> By the way, one problem with the story that I did not forsee as I thought it up - child pornography laws! Apparently it is often illegal to photograph or videotape a person beneath the age of 18 even if the age of consent is lower. A sensible law probably. Now, the photographs taken of Kurt are not exactly pornographic. They are definitely suggestive, but they are more about the expression of feelings of vulnerability, intimacy, lust and love through facial expressions, positioning, the play of light on skin and so on. No genitalia and no sexual acts are depicted.
> 
> Feel free to comment, critique and so on
> 
>  
> 
> Music tips from a regular nobody:  
> Burn the Witch & Daydreaming by Radiohead (I swear Thom is trying to kill me. In the most pleasant way imaginable)  
> The russian version of Once Upon a December


	8. Chapter 8

  
It was both surprising and not surprising at all that Puck was not the one to spill the beans, but even so by Monday morning it seemed the entire student body of McKinley High knew that Kurt Hummel was no longer a virgin. They also knew (although this was more of a widely held opinion) that he was easy. A slut even, some insisted.

***

Friday progressed flawlessly predictable onwards from it’s small deviations. He went to Glee, sang and drove home. Then he looked over some of the files Mathieu had sent, making sure they were indeed innocuous. Some were a bit… risque; those which Mathieu had taken in the morning, just before or after he woke. In others he was doing normal things, walking, talking, eating, laughing. None of those were pictures he had thought would be of any interest to anybody but him and Mathieu, but there was something in the light, the positioning, the feeling they invited that was special. Through his skill Mathieu had managed to make him look beautiful and mysterious.

Kurt rang him up on Skype to green-light them, but they stayed talking for a while. Despite himself, the first thing Kurt said as Mathieu answered was «I miss you».

He laughed, the sound and sight of it making Kurt’s spine tingle. His hair was shorter, Kurt noticed. «I miss you too. Did you like the photos?»

«Yes. I think I’m okay with you using them. I mean - it’s not like anybody I know is going to see them anyway, right?»

«Other than your grandmother and Felicia? No, probably not» he replied.

Kurt smiled, «Well, they don’t really care, so that’s fine».

Katherine was far more comfortable with his sexual orientation than he had thought anybody in his family could ever be. She was even the one who had introduced him to Mathieu. Not that she’d ever thought they would get along so well. To her Mathieu had just been a fellow art appreciator.

They talked for a while about their lives. Kurt carried his laptop around to show him his room and Mathieu told him of his week, of editing, of drawing, playing that year’s last game of beach volleyball, going out to lunches at the sweet cafe they’d frequented as Kurt stayed with him. Kurt couldn’t say he wasn’t envious, especially when it was his turn to tell Mathieu of his days at McKinley high.

«It’s better now» was all he could find to say, for talking about schoolwork and deadlines seemed depressingly dull. «Nothing exiting has really happened, it’s still the same old Lima. Although…»

«What?» Mathieu asked, smiling.

Kurt chewed on his lip, «I’m going on a date tomorrow»

«Oh» Mathieu’s smile faltered for a moment, and he looked a bit sad. «Who is it?»

«His name is Brandon… Don't laugh! He is not a porn star! Real people can be named Brandon!»

«Okay» Mathieu said, hand’s held up placatingly, still snickering.

Kurt grinned. «He’s a journalist. Or he’s just finished his bachelor in journalism, so he’s looking for a job, staying with his parents to save money as he searches. He’s really nice. And kind of nerdy»

«And hot?»

Kurt nodded «Tall and muscly, with brown curls and blue eyes and a really nice jawline»

«Is he hotter than me?» Mathieu asked, only half jokingly.

Laughing, Kurt shook his head. «I don’t know. Apples and oranges and all that»

«Send me his photo then»

Kurt did. The least goofy one he could find.

«Oh, he is nice» Mathieu said, nodding approvingly. «I would definitely lick those biceps»

«Salope!» Kurt laughed, happy and grateful this didn’t cause any awkwardness between them. «So… Have you found somebody else then?»  
  
Mathieu, let out a deep breath. «If you’re asking whether I have found a new boyfriend, then no. But I have… I have fucked somebody»

Ow. That stung more than he thought it would. «Ah, all right»

On the screen, Mathieu frowned, looking as if he wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to after all. They had agreed even before they became a ‘something’ that that something was temporary. Mathieu didn’t think he was even capable of being in a long distance relationship and even Kurt didn’t believe one would really work if they had attempted it.

Someday, maybe, they’d agreed. If they crossed paths again.

«Well, I have to go soon. Going out with Luka» Mathieu said.

«Yeah, okay. I should probably get started on some homework anyway» Kurt replied, blinking too much.

«Call me sometime soon, yeah. And tell me how it went» Mathieu smiled heavily.

Kurt nodded.

«Love you»

«Love you too»

Mathieu tapped the end call icon and the screen went blank. Kurt rubbed his hand over his wet eyes. «Stupid heart» he said, as it pounded painfully in his chest. «Stupid»

Then he sniffed, opened his biology text book on the page stated on their assignment plan and read.

***

In the evening Carol and Finn arrived and Carol joined him in the dinner preparations. It had long since been decided that Finn and Burt’s roles were to set the table and wash up, never allowed to make any of the food. That would be to invite disaster.

The talk around the table - steak with a tomato-avocado-onion salad and mushroom stew, was nice and comfortable, but as usual they were soon divided, two groups holding two different conversations. Kurt talked to Carol mostly, and sometimes Burt, shooting in a comment to Finn, but Finn and he didn’t talk much - they didn’t seem to have anything to talk about now that Kurt wasn’t trying so hard to make the other boy like him.

He tried to stay light hearted about it, but despite himself a light gloom sank over him when the conversation turned to football and Burt got involved so animatedly, smiling and laughing and gesturing, in a way he had never been for anything Kurt enjoyed. Sitting there as they did it was easy to picture Finn as Burt’s son, a picture almost comically similar to the one Kurt sometimes saw when he tried to imagine the son Burt must have thought he was going to have when he first heard that Kurt was going to be a baby boy.

Seeing that always hurt a little.

He left the table first, same as always, and putting on one of his favorite playlists he settled back on his bed with the darkly funny «Everything is illuminated», a novel he’d been recommended by Katherine.

Saturday he spent his day waiting exitedly as he practiced his singing, choosing songs off the internet that he found difficult and going through old glee songs. He danced too, and read some, made a healthy lunch for Burt and the Hudsons - almond flour pancakes with a strawberry-kiwi-walnut salad, before going back to read his book and answer an email from Minx. With Carol he made a homemade pizza - mushroom, artichoke, tomato and plenty of onion filled tomato sauce and cheese, and he was careful not to eat too much. He read some more, finishing his book right before seven, and decided he might as well start getting ready.

He showered and got dressed in the clothes he had picked out the night before; dark blue skinny jeans, tight fitting - showing off his ass, a sheer, but warm burgundy hoodie which hung loosely and comfortably on his frame, and his tailored black fall jacket to give some protection from the wind that made the trees whistle that day.

He’d already told his father that he was going over to Quinn’s place over breakfast, so when the time finally came and he got ready to leave he just shouted «I’m going now, Dad! Have a nice evening!» over his shoulder.

In return he got what he could only assume was a message of equal substance. Burt was watching tv with Carol curled up at his side and maybe it was their kissing which muffled his words, Kurt mused as he walked up by the side of his car. Finn was out too tonight, so they might actually even be getting it on. The thought wasn’t as appalling as he expected it to be. Mostly it made him feel happy to think about how his father had finally found somebody to share his life with - even if there was a good portion of ‘ugh’.

He almost felt proud that he was the one that had brought them together, but he had been entirely selfish when he played matchmaker for them. He wondered, would he still have done it even if Finn’s mother had been a stupid bimbo as shallow as a puddle left on the road after a drizzle?

It sickened him that he couldn’t answer that question with an absolute and certain negative. He’d been such a lovesick puppy of an idiot. All that had mattered to him was that their union would bring him closer to the object of his attraction.

He found it ironic now that currently Carol’s only fault in his eyes was that she had a son named Finn Hudson. He would have laughed if it didn’t make him want to scream.

***

Brandon was already sitting at a window table when Kurt walked in the door of the small cafe, even though he also had arrived a few minuted too early. When he walked over, Brandon stood and they embraced a bit awkwardly, smiling at each other as they took their seats.

The interior design aimed at shabby chic with soft couches and chairs and pillows all at the warm end of the color wheel. With aesthetically worn down tabletops and lit mostly by dimmed ambient light fixtures and by candlelight the diner gave off a feeling of warmth and comfort which was only strenghtened by the seating arrangements, more like alcoves than booths, that brought a sense of intimacy.

A waitress with pink victory rolls soon came over to take their order, a mocha, a caramel latte, and a piece of the house’s special chocolate cake and a chocolate soufflé to share since they both found it hard to decide between them.

«You’re a chocoholic too, huh?» Kurt grinned.

«Yeah, big time» Brandon replied. «Fancy chocolate is the true way to my heart»

«Like confectionary?»

«U-huh. And Belgian truffles. I love those things»

«I’ll have to remember that»

Their order didn’t take long, the waitress serving it to them with a «Bón Appetit» and a smile. They thanked her and started devouring the cake with their tiny dessert forks.

«Mm» Kurt hummed appreciatively as he savored the first bite, making Brandon glance at his mouth, his lips turning upwards in a crooked, knowing smile.

«Perv» Kurt reprimanded, but he was smiling.

Brandon chuckled. «Can’t help it. I do agree it is a really good cake though»

They hid their smiles in their food and ate in silence for a while.

«So, what’s this movie we’re going to see then?» Kurt asked, picking up one of the spoons as the last piece of cake disappeared down Brandon’s gullet.

«Well, there are actually three movies at nine, so I thought we’d just choose one» he replied.

Kurt’s quirked his right eyebrow. «You didn’t even know what movie you wanted to watch when you asked me?»

He smiled guiltily. «Nope. But I know that movies are always a good addition to a date»

«Sure. It’s very traditional anyway. Let’s have it then. What are our options?»

Brandon nodded, «One is about John Lennon as a kid, very biographical»

«Could be interesting»

«Yeah. Another is called Atlantis something, it’s sci-fi action about a shuttle crew, and the third is called Buried, about a man buried in a box struggling to survive»

«About a shuttle crew? That sounds a bit boring»

«Well, obviously some shit happens that fuck them up or something»

«Right» Kurt said, smiling. «Didn’t you say you liked sci-fi?»

Brandon nodded, looking surprised he would remember. «Yeah. But do you want to see it?»

«Sure, I don’t really have a preference anyway» he replied, and they finished off their coffees and their soufflé and walked to the cinema.

***

Forty minutes later found them quietly slipping out of the movie theatre, giggling hushedly.

«That was sooo bad!» Kurt exclaimed as soon as the door shut behind them.

Brandon laughed, «Yeah. I’m so sorry I ever asked you to the movies. We could have gone bowling or something. Even that must have been less awful than thisl»

«Hey, don’t diss bowling!» Kurt mock-complained, shoving at him playfully.

«You like bowling?» Brandon asked incredulously.

Kurt laughed. «Yeah, my dad takes his employees, including me, out to bowl once every other month. I enjoy completely annihilating them all and watching their faces drop as they realize they’ve lost to a flamer»

«You’re far more wicked than you look, you know» Brandon remarked.

Kurt smirked. «I know»

«I suck at it. Not that I ever got much practice…» Brandon had started walking towards the exit sign, but was stopped when Kurt’s hand closed around his wrist. «What?»

«Let’s sneak into one of the other theater’s!» he hissed.

«Er…» Brandon started, and got cut off.

«I mean, the tickets are all the same price, right. So it wouldn’t exactly be theft. And there are no cinema guards around» Kurt explained.

After a second or two of consideration, Brandon’s lips stretched into a wide grin and they walked down the hall together. Neither of them remembered which movie was in which theatre so they just went into the one Kurt remembered as the biggest one.

The curtains covering the doors made sure no light snuck it’s way in with them, but the door seemed designed to squeak, no matter how carefully they pushed it open. Still, only a few faces turned toward them, and they made their way to two seats in the topmost row without issue.

It turned out it was the one about the man who was buried alive that they had walked into. Surprisingly that movie was far better - full of anticipation and thrills and great acting even though the way it was filmed was highly unconventional.

«That was actually really good, for an action movie» Kurt stated when they walked out of the cinema an hour later.

Brandon nodded, smirking as he put his arm around Kurt’s waist, protecting him from the cooling weather. «What movies do you like? If you don’t like action»

Kurt shivered again, now not just from the cold, and felt his insides curl pleasantly. «Well, it’s not exactly that I don’t like them. I like movies like the Godfather, or Taxi Driver or Fight Club, you know the really good ones. But generally I don’t like them much».

«So what do you watch?» Brandon asked.

Kurt shrugged. «To be honest I’m not that big on movies. The only ones I really watch are the ones my dad likes or my best friend likes. And my best friend, Mercedes, usually watches romantic comedies, dramas, musicals and reality, so…»

Brandon grimaced, only half joking. «Well, I am definitely going to try to convert you into a full on sci-fi geek. 12 Monkeys, the Matrix and Bladerunner are all in your immediate future. If you’ll allow me, that is»

Kurt snorted. «Sure»

They walked along the sidewalk, back towards the cafe, halting as they reached it.

«So…» Kurt started.

«So» Brandon looked at him expectantly.

Kurt glanced around them, seeing nobody, and pulled Brandon in for a kiss. Their first kiss. He smiled against him as their teeth crashed a little, before they found a good positioning and pace, lips moving deliciously against each other. Warm and wet their tongues met, rolled against each other, and made Kurt’s spine tingle with delight. Kurt’s hands wound their way into Brandon’s hair, pulling through soft, short hair, drawing a groan from him.

They separated after a minute that felt both eternal and over in a second, smiling at each other.

«Could we go back to your place?» Kurt asked breathlessly.

Brandon frowned, lips drawn into an attractive pout. «We could, but my parents are home. I mean, they don’t care much if I bring somebody into my room, but…»

«Yeah, I don’t think I want to meet your parents for the first time as we sneak up to your room» Kurt agreed, grimacing.

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes hungry and longing.

«I guess we could drive somewhere» Kurt finally said.

«Like a hotel?»

«No»

Kurt drove them out to the outskirts of Lima, where the cops never bothered patrolling at night and where most of the land was covered with suburbia. His own house wasn’t far from there, but that was not where he aimed to go.

He found the Lima science museum, doubling as an observatory, a big black box of a building, sitting upon the highest hill within Lima's borders. The parking lot that accompanied it was shared with a grocery shop and was humongous and completely abandoned.

«Here?» Brandon asked as he parked.

Kurt nodded and shut the car off, clicking his seatbelt off and slipping into the back.

«You know, I almost feel like I should be concerned that you just drove a guy you barely know to an abandoned lot in the middle of nowhere. I mean, what if I was a serial murderer?» Brandon told him, as he followed him with somewhat less grace, his thicker frame fitting awkwardly.

«But you’re not» Kurt said, brushing his hands down Brandon’s chest.

«I might. You never know» Brandon mimed pulling a knife from his pocket and slashing at Kurt’s face.

Kurt laughed. «Nope. You are a dork. Although a very sexy dork»

They kissed again, deeper, harder. His fingers went beneath Brandon’s shirt, skirting up his abs, earning him a sigh. Brandon removed his own shirt, then tugged on the edge of Kurt’s jersey. Kurt lifted his arms, letting him pull it off.

He ran a finger down Kurt’s chest, from adams apple to the dip of his bellybutton. «I don’t have a condom. Or lube. Felt it would be a bit presumptuous» he said.

«Me neither. I wasn’t really planning on fucking you on our first date. Especially not in a car. But then I wasn’t planning on this either. You just make me really horny with your talking and laughing… Your existing» Kurt gasped as Brandon took one of his nipples into his mouth.

Brandon chuckled and moved to kiss his neck, the vibrations of it sending shivers running through him, goosebumps erupting all over.

Kurt had lowered the seats as far as they could go, but it still wasn’t quite enough when he was pushed down onto his back along the line of the seats. Even though Kurt was much shorter than Brandon, it didn’t mean that he was short enough to lie comfortably.

But that didn’t really matter when Brandon bent to lick into his belly button, drawing a sharp breath from him. Licking up his chest, he lingered on his nipples, and it felt so good it was all Kurt could do to let his suddenly feeble hand grab onto the rapidly hardening bulge in Brandon’s pants.

It drew a grunt from Brandon, warm breath hitting his naked skin where his mouth pressed against it. He struggled a bit with the button, but eventually got them open enough to slide his hand down the front of his boxers.

Brandon moved against him for a moment, in synchronicity with his loose pulls, breathing into his neck, but soon he grew impatient and rose up onto his knees. He started on Kurt’s zipper, helping him pull off the clothing and tossing them to the side. His own pants he shoved down to the knees.

They both moaned as their bodies met, skin on naked skin. Brandon licked his palm and slid his hand around them both, pumping their cocks and adding his own shallow thrusts. Fascinated with the way they moved together - Kurt’s pale pink shaft with the flushed, reddened head, Brandon’s tan, thick and veiny, circumcicion scars circling them both, they watched hungrily. Kurt’s mouth watered at the sight of them - the slide of skin, against, around, their balls meeting at times, and as he met Brandon’s eyes he could see his want mirrored in his face.

They kissed again, made out furiously, tongue and teeth and lips dancing together, playing with softness and harsh edges. Kurt’s hands tangled in Brandon’s soft, short hair, scraped down his back, cupped his cheeks. Brandon panted into the kiss, letting go of their cocks and sliding his hands up the inside of Kurt’s thighs, still thrusting as he bit at Kurt’s lips, nipped at his collarbone. Pleasure bloomed along the trail of his lips as he closed his mouth around Kurt’s left ear lobe. His hands went under his knees, pushed his legs further apart and up, travelled around the thin skin over his hip joint, dipped under and beneath the small of his back to spread him, to slip his fingers between and let his index finger draw torturous little circles.

«Ah!» Kurt gasped, and moaned against Brandon’s neck, clamping his tights tighter around his waist and wriggling his hips thoughtlessly as one hand stimulated his opening, and another rubbed along his perineum, lightly clutching at his balls. It was the first time anybody had touched him like that since summer, and the pleasure of it was overwhelming. Cock dripping, he was struck wordless even as he wanted to tell him to put it in him. The finger pressed closer and closer as his muscles started their frantic cycle of clenching and relaxing, but it wasn’t enough. And the position wasn’t maintainable. Brandon’s hand was gradually getting crushed beneath the weight of him.

As he started feeling the strain, Brandon moved one hand to his back, pulling him with him as he sat up and positioning him in his lap, spine against the back of the seat. After a deep kiss, Brandon smiled and drew the fingers of his right hand into his mouth, covering them with a thick layer of saliva before moving them back to their previous place.

They moved together, thrust against soft thrust, and the the finger ran over and around, pressing, then finally pushing inside. Brandon looked him in the eyes as he thrust his finger into him again and again, and Kurt could tell that he was getting off on it as much as he was. It made his moans ring louder, pitch going high as another digit was added to the one, stretching him and filling him, going faster, as fast as they were able.

The inevitable end started getting closer and he squirmed and wriggled, clawed at Brandon’s scalp and back, raped his mouth. He could only nod frantically when Brandon asked; «You close?»

He was shoved upwards, head almost hitting the roof as Brandon lifted his thighs to wrap around his neck. Kurt watched wide eyed as he spit onto his hand again and slid it up between his thighs, right in where it belonged, three fingers pushing in again. The angle was better, so much better, and when he curled them he pushed right into that wonderful, wonderful place that made his toes curl.

«Fuck!» he shouted and he quivered with the pleasure of it, his moan intensifying as Brandon licked a teasing stripe across his cockhead. Then his warm mouth enveloped it, swallowed around it as he took it deep into his throat. Kurt came within the minute, spasms making him shake, his abdominal muscles clenching around Brandon’s fingers.

When the aftershocks were over Brandon let his thighs slide off of his shoulders and he collapsed bonelessly into his lap. Brandon grinned and wiped his mouth on his arm.

«Good?» he asked, cheeky bastard that he was.

«So good» Kurt said, having no extra energy to invent a sarcastic answer. He glanced down at Brandon's cock, rock hard, bright red and looking as it it was about to burst if it was ignored any longer. Kurt wanted to return the favor, but more than that he wanted that thing in his mouth.

«Your turn» he said, pushing at Brandon’s chest until he got the hint and knelt by the left car door, so Kurt could lie down on his stomach, his feet in the air so that he’d fit better, and pop the head of it into his mouth.

He used his hands and all his skill, twisting, licking, sucking, and it wasn’t long before it was over - Brandon came with a wordless shout and a spurt of warm, soupy liquid filled his mouth and made his nose wrinkle with the sour-bitter taste of it. He swallowed it with a gulp, and was drawn into Brandon’s chest, his mouth thoroughly ransacked.

«You’re really good at that, you know» Brandon told him as they leant back against the seats after finally coming up for air.

«I could say the same about you» Kurt smiled.

They kissed again, softly.

And then Kurt picked his jeans up off the floor and checked the time on his phone. «It’s almost twelve» he stated.

Brandon sighed. «Better be getting ourselves to bed then, maybe?»

«Yeah. I have plans with a friend tomorrow, so…» He agreed reluctantly.

«It’s been a fun date» Brandon said and kissed him. And kissed him again. And again.

The clothes felt uncomfortable as he pulled them back on, fabric sticking to his still sweaty skin. They felt almost restrictive as he slid between the front seats to sit in the driver’s seat and start the car.

They rode back in silence, a comfortable, sleepy, contented silence without much awkwardness or expectation. He drove him to his doorstep, something which Brandon couldn’t manage not to grin at.

«Don’t I get a good night kiss?» he asked, wagging his brows.

Kurt smirked and pulled Brandon in for a last smooch over the joy stick. Then they parted and Kurt drove away, humming and smiling to himself, feeling more relaxed than he had in months.

***

Sunday afternoon, just as Kurt was wiping down the upholstery of his car, Jacob Ben Israel, as always, sat editing his newest blog post. It was a beautiful scoop, and for once he would be first out with the juicy news. He could hardly wait for people to see it, read it, giggle as they whispered about it in the hallways.

How lucky it was that Miss Floof would have to take a dump at the exact time in the evening when Hummel decided to make out on the other side of the hedge she liked to poop under. He could have kissed the demented mutt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)   
> First smut scene I've ever really finished. *Hides blush behind a throw pillow*   
> Critique is welcome (but be gentle!)
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	9. Chapter 9

9:

 

When Monday came around Kurt was still basking in satisfaction. He must have needed it more than he had thought, the sex, the closeness, the release. He had hardly stopped smiling or planning the next time he was going to meet Brandon and do it all over again.

 

He was in his own little world as he retrieved his books from his locker and walked to class, not noticing the odd looks he got. In fact it wasn’t before lunch that he even noticed that anything peculiar was going on.

 

By then the rumor had spread, moving from mouth to mouth like a verbal wildfire, and it had become impossible not to notice how girls would giggle as he walked by, how boys would look at him with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

 

«Do you know what’s going on?» he asked Artie and Tina, his only friends in Physics, as they made their way to the cafeteria.

 

Frowning they both shook their heads. «You know nobody tells us anything» Artie said.

 

It must be about him, he thought as they entered and the atmosphere of the cafeteria suddenly shifted. Eyes turned to them, to him, and smiles full of shark teeth made his pulse jump in his throat. But he didn’t stop, didn’t halt and give them time to salivate and lick their chops.

 

He got his tray of salad and burger and sat in his usual seat, beside Cedes and Quinn, with Tina on his other side and the rest of the gleeks spread out all around him.

 

«So what’s going on?» he asked them as all their wide eyes turned to him.

 

It was Puck who answered him first. «There’s a rumor about you, princess» he said with a mock serious voice. «Says you’re a bit of a floosy»

 

«What?»

 

«A trollop» Quinn added helpfully, smirking behind her cup of coffee.

 

Kurt looked around the table, at Finn and Mike’s uncomfortable looking faces, Santana and Puck’s grins, Brittany’s distant eyes, Mercedes’ flared nostrils.

 

«Rachel?» he asked in the end, looking at the blushing girl for what he knew would be a true, no bullshit answer.

 

She swallowed loudly. «Jacob Ben Israel posted about you on his blog this morning. Saying he saw you making out with some guy on the street. That you were going to go… fornicate» The glee table collectively grimaced at her word choice. «Somewhere»

 

«He implied you might have gone to some seedy motel» Santana shot in. «But the rumors have gone way, way farther since then»

 

Kurt felt his face get warm, a place in the back of his head going _Shit, shit, shit…_ Yet another part of him started feeling prickly, like a boiling, roiling pot of oil was being stirred violently. 

 

He narrowed his eyes. «Oh?» 

 

«Yup. There are so many, you have no idea» She continued. «There’s one that the guy is one of your dad’s friends and that you have been sleeping with him since you were thirteen» 

 

«Eww!» Kurt grimaced, mirroring Finn’s expression perfectly. Only they knew how awful that rumor truly was. 

 

«In one he’s your drug dealer» Puck chipped in cheerily. 

 

«And there’s one that you’ve been having a threesome relationship with three of the guys on the football team since this summer» Quinn said. 

 

Finn and Mike suddenly looked horrified, glancing at him as if to ask him…

 

«No, that’s not true. How could that even happen? The whole team loathes me» Kurt said, rolling his eyes. 

 

«That one’s mine, actually» Santana beamed. «This is comedy gold, I tell you. All the girls are making up ridiculous stories about you having sex with guys they like» She snickered. «Or being mad about it. It’s so wonderfully pervy» 

 

«Ugh», Kurt grimaced and sighed. 

 

«So» Puck smirked. «I’m guessing the french guy did pretty good then, since you’re not blowing a fuse yet?» 

 

Even biting his lip Kurt couldn’t help grinning. «Yeah, I guess he did» 

 

«French guy?» Mercedes exclaimed. «I thought you said Brandon was from Lima?» 

 

Shit. 

 

«Yeah, I did. I just…» he scrambled for words. 

 

«Oh,  damn » Puck laughed. «They’re different dudes» 

 

In that moment Kurt really wanted to strangle Puck, but he couldn’t rip himself away from the betrayal written in Mercedes’ eyes. 

 

«You met somebody in Europe. And you didn’t even tell me» she accused. It made his hackles rise in response. 

 

«Well, I was planning on it, but you never asked!» Kurt snapped back. 

 

«What?! How would I know to ask you whether you’ve met some freaking frenchman?» 

 

«I’m talking about my summer, Mercedes. I went to Europe, for christ’s sake. There’s a lot of things you could have asked me, but you just didn’t»

 

«Of course I asked. I asked you how your summer had been» she said, less confident sounding now. 

 

«Okay, yes. You asked  _once_ . And do you remember what I answered?» Kurt asked. 

 

Mercedes hesitated. 

 

«I bet you don’t, you know why? Because before I had spoken two sentences you started talking over me» he told her. «Talking about Daniel and how wonderful he is…» 

 

«So, what? I should shut my trap and let you speak about your guy?» she sneered, fiery anger returned. 

 

«No! It’s just that it would be nice if I didn’t have to shout to get you to listen to me!» he protested. «If you acted as if you actually wanted to know anything about my life at all» 

 

Mercedes, dark blush staining her cheeks and unshed tears threatening to spill over the edge, clenched her teeth in anger and stood, causing her chair to fall back with a clash. She grabbed her bag and strode from the cafeteria, leaving half her plate unfinished. 

 

There was silence around the table for a minute, then Quinn rose, looking down at Kurt with both apology and something that spoke of disappointment, and went after her. 

 

Santana let out a chuckle, «Well, that was dramatic».

 

Kurt gave her a dark look, anger and guilt simmering inside him, flowing closer and closer to the surface. He wanted to shout, to insult somebody. 

 

And when his eyes met the lone figure by the table in the back of the cafeteria he smiled, wickedly, cruelly. 

 

* * *

 

To get maximum dramatic effect Jacob Ben Israel had set the auto-posting to 5 am, to give the post just enough time to make circulation before the start of the school day. 

 

Just as he had planned it kept the news juicy and irresistible. Like a wave the rumors spread and grew until everybody was talking about it. From his place in the cafeteria he could hear at least four different conversations about the topic, and an endless amount of giggles.

 

Still his table remained empty. Not even the kid with downs or the chess geek who usually sat by him showed up. 

 

He was disappointed. This wasn’t the way he had pictured it. It was his story, wasn’t it? So why didn’t anybody come over and ask him about it? Why didn’t anybody want to hear it from Jacob’s own mouth?

 

And why was it, that even though every one of Lima High’s 521 students knew about Hummel and whoever-he-may-be there was still only 32 people who had read his blogpost? And only 4 who liked it. Zero who had commented.

 

Feeling lonely, he picked at his soggy salad, squeezing more dressing out of the small plastic packet to drench it some more. 

 

He heard the whispering  fall away around him before he noticed him, a shadow over Jacob as he stood beside the table, bag in hand and eyes hard  as stone . 

 

«Hi Jacob» Kurt said, sitting down opposite of him. «Enjoying your lunch are you?» 

 

Jacob swallowed, almost choking as the suddenly sharp blades of rucola slid down his throat. 

 

Kurt didn’t wait for him to answer. «Tell me, do you want to be a paparazzi when you grow up?» 

 

«Um» he blinked. «A journalist» 

 

Kurt snorted. «Do you really think you could ever be a real journalist?» His smirk was cruel and disdainful and it made Jacob want to kick him. 

 

«Why wouldn’t I be able to? I practically already am» 

 

With a shake of his head, Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and studied the screen. «You really aren’t. From what I can tell all you do on your blog is report rumors. Usually after everybody who matter already are in the know» 

 

Jacob gritted his teeth. «Many journalists report on rumors. That’s what journalists do» 

 

«No, reporting rumors of private individuals who’s lives are generally considered to be none of anybody else's business is what bottom feeders do. Sure they may call themselves journalists, even though they are generally just gossip columnists, even though after a day or three nobody really care what they wrote yesterday. Their work is forgotten as soon as it leaves their empty heads and is posted» 

 

«That’s rich coming from you. Everybody knows you’re one of the worst gossips in Lima» He shot back, feeling his face get warm, that feverish feeling of indignant anger making him stumble over his words. 

 

«Oh, so you’re telling me that if you happened upon some ‘news’ about a more innocent person that could potentially get people to laugh and whisper you would  _not_ be posting about them?» his voice hit Jacob like a slap across the face. 

 

He instinctively wanted to say  _No, I wouldn’t_ , but he knew exactly what Kurt was hinting at. Christa, a girl who was only one step higher up the Lima High food chain than himself, a girl who wouldn’t usually attract rumors since she was about as noticeable as a house plant. She had slipped on a wet spot while he walked by one day, her shirt pulling up to reveal a colostomy bag. After he posted about it people had whispered about it for days, and some douchebags even started calling her ‘shit girl’. 

 

It was one of the few times he had  been the one to  start a rumor, and afterwards, after he had seen Christa crying, he had wondered why he had even done it, how he could have done it. But then he remembered his glee as he pressed the ‘post’ button - finally a rumor of his own, finally he would be a somebody.

 

«Do you know why your blog is so unpopular?» Kurt asked him when an answer didn’t seem to be forthcoming. «Because it obviously is. Here we are, sitting in a sea of people gossiping about your story, but there your blog is, 32 views, 4 likes» he showed him the image of his blog post on the screen of his phone. «And here you are, all alone» 

 

Jacob flinched and looked up at him hatefully, but Kurt didn’t even blink. 

 

«It’s because they think you’re pathetic, Jacob. All of them, even as they giggle behind my back, are also talking about how small and awful you have to be to write the things you do, to act the way you do, to have such little respect for other people. To have such little self-respect» Kurt paused looking as if he was done with his speech, satisfied with the shame he had awoken, and about to get up and walk away. 

 

He wouldn’t let him, Jacob couldn’t let him get the last word. «Maybe, next time, you should think about whether you’d be ashamed of somebody knowing what you did before you do it. And maybe just not do it!» 

 

Kurt sighed and turned back to him. «I’m not ashamed, Jacob. What is there to be ashamed of? That I’m actually attracted to guys and not just some effeminate guy? That I have a libido? That’s hardly anything that should surprise anybody. No I’m not ashamed. I don’t even mind that much that all these people know. What I do mind, Jacob, is that you told them. 

 

“You took a private moment of mine and you made it public. That’s why people don’t like you Jacob. That’s why you have no real friends, because people can’t feel safe around you, can’t know that what they tell you won’t end up online» He went on, frowning at him in the most patronizing way. «Oh, Jacob. You need to grow some thicker skin. Tears are useless»

 

Then Kurt picked up his book bag and walked away and Jacob was left humiliated, with warm tears trickling over the brim of his eyes and anger like none he had ever felt pushing it’s way through his veins. 

 

«FUCK!» he shouted and banged his fist upon the table, bringing less damage to it than himself. Around him laughter erupted, some hesitant, some roaring. 

 

«Go Hummel!» somebody shouted. Jacob stormed from the cafeteria, barely avoiding getting tripped  by outstretched feet on his way to the boys’ toilets. 

 

* * *

 

Glee was a strange experience that day, with Mercedes and Kurt stubbornly avoiding each other and the others weary of them. Only Puck, Santana and Brittany acted completely normal, but then they were always a bit stuck in their own worlds. Even Schue seemed to sense that something odd had happened, like a dog sensing a thunderstorm in the air, but as usual he ignored it, content to let them settle any drama amongst themselves. 

 

By the time he was driving home, the anger had mostly dissipated, leaving behind a trail of annoyance. Annoyance at Ben Israel, at the school, at Mercedes. At the world for ruining his happiness. 

 

As he approached his house, he had a sudden fear. What if his dad had heard? But almost as soon as he had thought it he dismissed it. How in the world would that happen?  By Burt, who famously hated everything to do with computers, finding Ben Israel’s blog post?

 

He snorted to himself, but still, when he saw that his father’s car was not in the garage, he felt relieved. 

 

* * *

 

As the clock passed six, Burt and his guys started closing up, cleaning up puddles of oil and replacing wild card tools in their assigned cupboards, changing out of their work  overalls before finally locking the doors shut and getting out of there. 

 

He groaned as he slumped in the seat of his car, stretching his back until it produced a satisfying crack. Then he fired up the engine. 

 

Dinner was already on the table when he walked in the door, Kurt sitting in his own seat fiddling with his phone, waiting. Burt smiled, grateful to his son despite the fact that the meal was probably healthier than he preferred it to be. 

 

«Hey, kid» he greeted. «What’s cooking?» 

 

«Chicken fajitas» Kurt said, pulling the sheet of foil off the casserole, revealing a line of steaming tortilla rolled chicken strips.

 

«Mm» Burt hummed in appreciation and sat, reaching for one of them. 

 

They ate mostly in silence, Burt asking his son how school was, Kurt answering «Same as always, I guess» and then asking Burt about work. He told him about a car they were working on, a pretty old Mustang with  sleek polish, but  a  banged up carburetor. 

 

«Money is wasted on the wealthy» Kurt commented. 

 

After they had helped each other clean up, as they always did in spite of the fact that Kurt argued it was his duty since he didn’t have work, and Burt argued that he should do  it  since Kurt did the cooking. As they finished Kurt went into his little cave in the basement and Burt was left to watch trash y tv on his own. 

 

Halfway through a Hoarders episode Burt remembered that he had bought a mars bar earlier that day which he hadn’t finished. Suddenly the idea of biting into it 's sweet, chocolaty goodness became irresistible and he got up, feeling  a bit  sneaky as he went into the hallway and rummaged through his jacket pockets. Kurt hated it when he ate candy in the middle of the week. 

 

Not immediately finding it he emptied the pockets into his hands. Phone, a gum ball wrapper, a string of unknown origin, his mastercard and  _there_ , his half-eaten mars bar. He was about to replace the  other items when he saw that he had  received  a message. 

 

Hm. Unknown number, it said. He took the phone with him as he again seated himself in his favorite armchair, and opened the message. 

 

It only contained a link.  Frowning, h e clicked it and was brought to a very ugly looking site. It was a blog, or at least he thought that was what it was called. 

 

«Naughty Hummel» the title read, making Burt’s eyebrows rise  up to meet his admittedly invisible widow’s peak. He read on. 

 

For every word he read his teeth clenched harder together  and his head felt hot with anger . His son, kissing a stranger in the middle of the street? Going off to… He couldn’t even finish the thought. 

 

As he  came to the end of the post he wanted to storm down the stairs and confront Kurt with what he had read, but then he hesitated. 

 

Kurt had said his day had been average, just like any other. Did that mean that he didn’t yet know about  this thing , or was he perhaps trying to shield his father, yet again, from the bullying he suffered at the hands of other students?

 

Because that must be what this was, didn’t it? A mean prank, a lie supposed to smear and shame his son?

 

He paced across the living room, not knowing what to do. Should he ask Kurt, risking to put his son through more harm and humiliation than necessary? Or should he pretend he had never received the text? 

 

_But what if it was true?_ a tiny, devilish voice whispered in his ear. 

 

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, frustrated, and paced some more. Then it hit him. 

 

Who would know whether this was true? Who knew all of Kurt's thoughts and actions?  Who knew  his son better than he himself did? Mercedes. He could ask her if she knew anything of it, and if Kurt didn’t know of the nasty prank then he could ask her not to tell him. 

 

After three years of visits from Mercedes her number was firmly fixed in his contact list as well as the notebook he kept in his desk drawer. She picked up on the second ring. 

 

«Hello?» she said, sounding somewhat off, even though Burt wasn’t sure why that would be. 

 

«Hello, Mercedes. This is Burt» he answered. 

 

«Oh» 

 

Burt cleared h is throat awkwardly. «I just wanted to ask you whether you have heard anything about a blog post about Kurt» 

 

«Um. He didn’t tell you?» Mercedes asked, clearly surprised. 

 

«So he knows?» 

 

«Of course he knows» Mercedes laughed. A foreign sounding, ugly laugh. «Everybody knows»

 

It was his turn to say «Oh» He swallowed, confused. «So, why do you think he didn’t tell me?» 

 

«Maybe because he didn’t want you to know he’s dating some old guy?» Mercedes spat. 

 

«What?! You mean…» Burt hesitated, trying to calm himself down. «You mean to say that what the blog wrote was true?» 

 

«Yes, Mr. Hummel» she answered, voice softer, and Burt’s heart dropped into his stomach. 

 

«He is dating somebody?» he asked hollowly. 

 

«Yes. Some older guy. Mr. Hummel, I…» her voice broke. «I just don’t understand anymore. We used to be best friends, but today he yelled at me.  In front of everybody. Ever since the summer he’s been so different. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore» 

 

Burt breathed slowly in, out, in, out, as Mercedes continued. His back and palms were sweating and nausea were rolling around in his stomach. -  _Supposedly they went on to find somewhere to fulfill their carnal desires._ That was what the blog had said. 

 

«I’m worried about him, Mr. Hummel. This just isn’t like him. It’s almost like he’s on drugs or something» 

 

That broke through the growing haze. «What?» 

 

«I don’t know. It’s just that… he doesn’t care about anything the way he used to anymore. Just look at what he wears! I haven’t even seen a Hermé s scarf for months» 

 

Drugs. Burt gripped hold to the idea. That could be it. 

 

Because Kurt had changed, he recognized that, though he hadn’t seen anything wrong with it at first. But he was quieter and spent most of his time out of the house or in his room. He seemed less energetic, slower in his movements in a way. A week ago he had swore as he stubbed his toe on the doorframe. His Kurt never swore.  Had said he thought it vulgar. 

 

«Thank you for telling me, Mercedes» he told her. «I know it can’t have been easy» 

 

«Yeah. I hope you can shake some sense into him!» she said, wetly. «I want my best friend back!»

 

She ended the call and Burt put the phone down, letting it fall to the table with a clang. 

 

A hollow, painful rage was making his head feel too full, like a beehive. Kurt had lied to him. Had gone out with some man without even telling him. He had hurt Mercedes. 

 

That couldn’t be his Kurt. His sweet, innocent son. 

 

His footsteps were heavy and loud on the stairway as he stomped his way down to Kurt’s bedroom in the basement. 

 

Kurt was lying on his bed, feet in the air and nose in some book, but he looked up as Burt entered. He frowned and lowered the volume on the stereo that was spewing out music. Classical music. Another thing that was unlike him. 

 

«What’s up?» he asked, the confused innocence in his voice almost making Burt halt.

 

«Don’t play innocent» he said sternly. «I know you lied to me. You weren’t at Quinn’s place Saturday, were you?»

 

Kurt looked shocked first, caught off guard, but then something ignited in his eyes. «Who told you?» 

 

«So, you’re not even going to deny it?» Burt demanded. He had expected some spluttering, at the very least. 

 

«No point in that, is there?» Kurt said, shrugging. For the first time in his life he looked like the picture of a normal  teenage boy; stubborn,  sulky and selfish. 

 

«Who is he? The guy you met» Burt pressed on. 

 

«I’m not going to tell you that right now, dad» Burt almost growled. «Who told you?» Kurt asked again. 

 

«You are going to tell me who it is!» Burt demanded. 

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. «Not now. Not while you’re this angry. I have to be sure you won’t  beat him to death first» he said. «Now, who told you, dad?» 

 

Burt gritted his teeth, «I got a text from an unknown number. It had a link to the blog post» 

 

«Fucking Ben Israel» Kurt muttered, making his father’s eyes narrow further. 

 

«I called Mercedes to ask about it, since I wasn’t sure it wasn’t some prank that you didn’t want me to know about. She said you shouted at her, Kurt!»

 

«And she shouted right back at me!» Kurt replied, indignantly. 

 

Burt shook his head at him, «She was crying» he told him, making him at last look a bit guilty. 

 

«Son, are you on drugs?» he asked then, watching Kurt closely. 

 

«What?» Kurt exclaimed, his eyes wide and incredulous.

 

«Are you on drugs?» Burt repeated. 

 

Kurt frowned, «I heard you the first time, I just don’t know how you could even think that!»

 

«Just answer the question, Kurt» 

 

«NO! I’m not on drugs» his son said, tone mocking. 

 

«Sit there!» Burt barked, pointing at the white armchair in the corner of the room. 

 

«Why?» Kurt demanded. 

 

Instead of replying Burt walked over and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling at him until he complied. 

 

«Ow, you didn’t have to pull so hard» Kurt said, dropping into the chair. 

 

Burt didn’t answer, but started to rummage through Kurt’s dresser, pulling out one drawer, after another. 

 

«What are you doing?» Kurt wondered, looking upon with horror as his things were shuffled and disarranged. 

 

«I’m making sure you’re not lying. And you are sitting in that chair until I’m done» 

 

Kurt groaned, but stayed put. «Can I at least get my book?» 

 

Burt  huffed and tossed it over to him, before going on to strip the sheets of the bed. He found  nothing  there, nor in the book case, behind the tv screen, the mirror, and there appeared to be no loose floorboards. 

 

He didn’t find anything in the bathroom, other than a surprise of finding ibuprofen and a box of tampons. «Mercedes» Kurt said when he asked. 

 

In the closet, he was overwhelmed at the sheer amount of clothes, but  though he patted them down  there seemed to be nothing else. Although… on the highest line of shelves, above the rack of clothes, was a set of boxes. Most contained shoes, one pictures, and another, smaller one…

 

He eyed the oddly shaped thing suspiciously, not able to guess what it was. It could be a drug related thing. Maybe. It wasn’t as if he really had any notion of what drug paraphernalia really looked like. 

 

«What’s this?» he asked, holding the thing up for Kurt to see. 

 

«Hum?» Kurt mumbled and looked up from his book. In an instant his tired expression changed into one of horror, face growing red as a  raw slab of beef . «Oh my god!» he exclaimed.

 

«What is it?» Burt asked again, this time even more suspicious. 

 

Kurt hid his face in the back of the chair, groaning into the fabric. «It’s a vibrator» he muttered.

 

«What?» Burt frowned uncomprehendingly. 

 

«Just press the button» Kurt said, grimacing. 

 

Burt looked at the thing, finding what looked like a small steel capsule attached to the end of one side. There was indeed a button on it. He pressed it. 

 

And promptly dropped it as the thing started buzzing quietly. 

 

«I swear I haven’t used it! I didn’t even remember she gave it to me!» Kurt squeaked. 

 

«Who in the world would give you a…?»

 

« Strange, oversexed British girls» Kurt replied, still not looking at him. 

 

Burt looked down at the thing again, trying not to understand how it was meant to be used. «I’m taking it» he said, pressing the button again and shoving the thing into his sweater pocket. 

 

«You’re taking  it ?» Kurt asked, confused. 

 

«Yes» 

 

Having gone through the rest of the closet, Burt decided to take his search upstairs. There were of course many, many cupboards and vases Kurt could have hidden something in, he justified. But as he went on he became more and more desperate. 

 

There had to be something, he thought. Because otherwise he had just ransacked the entire house, violated his son’s privacy and mentally scarred himself for no reason. 

 

Only when the sole room left standing unchecked was his own, he finally gave up. There were no drugs to find. That was just a teenage girl’s wishful thinking. And his. 

 

He went downstairs again to tell Kurt he was done and that he could go to bed, but Kurt was already asleep in the armchair, looking to  G od and everyone as innocent as a  little angel. 

 

Sighing, Burt let his fingers comb through Kurt’s thick hair for a moment, like he used to when he was little. If only he could have stayed that way forever. And if only Lizzie could have stayed with them. 

 

He carried Kurt to his bed and pulled a blanket over him, as his sheets still lay on the floor. Then he went on to tidy up as well as he could manage, before he went to bed himself, dreaming of  laughing  toddlers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) <3
> 
>  
> 
> Music tips from an average nobody:   
> Bear McCreary - Passacaglia, Apocalypse and Kalagyi Anaila Kaziri  
> Rodrigo Amarante - Tuyo, Tardei  
> Ghost in the shell OST - Making of a Cyborg  
> And anything by Interpol 
> 
> (For anybody wondering why I give music tips which are so unrelated to Glee, it's simply because my tastes are different and because I feel compulsed to. Whenever I find music that tears my heart out, makes me feel as though I'm lying in a summer meadow, standing naked in the deep snow, waiting to spill blood on the field of battle, plummeting towards the ground, soaring high above the mountains or drifting through foreign galaxies in search for new earth I need to - I have to, tell somebody. Silly, I know)


	10. Chapter 10

When Kurt woke up, his face was grimy and he was still wearing his clothes, red stripes imprinted into his thighs by the seam of his jeans. It was not a recipe for a good morning.

 

To make matters worse his dad had not made the customary «I’m sorry» pancakes, which meant that Burt was still mad at him.

 

«Morning, dad» he greeted, before grabbing some granola and yoghurt and seating himself, trying to crunch it down as quickly as he was able without outwardly seeming as if he was rushing.

 

«Good morning» Burt said tiredly, looking up from his newspaper. «What is the guy's name?»

 

Kurt sighed, «I think I’ll wait another couple of days. To let you cool off»

 

Burt harrumphed. «We’re going to the hospital. You’re going to take a drug test»

 

«Dad, honestly» Kurt protested, but it was no use. Burt didn’t even deem to wait until school was over, but called them to let them know he wasn’t coming in that day.

 

The ride to the hospital was spent in tense silence, as was the time in the hospital as they waited for the doctor, and again as they waited for the results from Kurt’s glass of piss.

 

«No known psychedelic or opioid drugs, nor any traces of THC was found» the doctor finally announced, smiling. «Kurt here» he laid a heavy paw on Kurt’s shoulder. «Is as clean as the big man himself».

 

Burt frowned, looking to Kurt and all the world as if he had just heard that his dog had cancer. Then he asked the doctor to double check.

 

The drive home was as awkward as the drive there, and when he was told to get his book bag - he was going to school anyway, Kurt let out a deep sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

People were less giggly today, most people keeping their noses to themselves, as was predictable for these things. Rumours had a famously dualistic life span. On the one hand, once a rumour was out it never died, but on the other hand, a rumour would grow stale and uninteresting in less time than it took a gummy bear to pass through somebody’s digestive tract.

 

Guys in gym seemed more weirded out by his presence in the locker room than usual, but nobody really said anything. Probably because Puck had planted himself right beside him and was babbling on about how he thought the disgusting meatballs served for lunch that day might be made of horse, Ikea style.

 

Mercedes still ignored him, and he ignored her in turn, keeping his mouth firmly shut, his nails digging into his palms whenever they crossed paths. Everybody else seemed to have gone back to their normal chatty selves, collectively choosing to ignore the previous day’s events.

 

The only person he really wanted to talk to, however, was Brandon. So, when his free period came along, he found an empty classroom and called him.

 

«Hey» Brandon said, sounding sleepy.

 

«Hi. Did you just wake up?» Kurt asked.

 

«Ah, yes. That kind of thing happens when you don’t have anything particular to get up for. It’s like, who cares if I stay up half the night playing Elder Scrolls, right?» he explained.

 

Kurt frowned, «Elder Scrolls?»

 

«Video game. Elves and dwarves and magic and stuff»

 

«Ah. Like WoW»

 

«Sort of. Hey, did you ever play WoW?» he wondered, smile clear in his voice.

 

«Yeah. Once, with Artie» Kurt replied.

 

«We could play together sometime» he proposed, sounding exited at the prospect.

 

Kurt chuckled. «Sure»

 

They were silent for a moment, then he started, «Um, Brandon. My dad kind of found out about us»

 

«Oh» Brandon muttered, leaving the _Shit_ unspoken. «So how did he react?» 

 

«Badly. He accused me of doing drugs» 

 

«What?!» 

 

«Well, that wasn’t entirely his idea. You see I had a fight with my friend and she kind of told my dad she thought I was on drugs» he explained.

 

Brandon let out a whistle, «Jesus. That is some drama. Was she the one who outed us?» 

 

Kurt hesitated. «Sort of, though she had help by this jackass at our school who writes a gossip blog. He saw us kissing  Saturday  and posted about it, and when I called him a pathetic douchebag for doing it he sent my dad a link» 

 

«Damn»

 

«And now it’s really awkward. I think he’s planning to interrogate me when I get home from school» he sighed, dangling his legs off the desk he was sitting on. 

 

«Well, can’t you just tell him the truth? I mean, he’s just mad at you for lying to him, right? He isn’t a homophobe or anything, is he?» he asked. 

 

Kurt shrugged. «No, not exactly, but you have to understand, my dad has this image of me in his head, where I’m this innocent little creature. And that image hasn’t matched reality since I was about five» Kurt sighed, «I mean, I know I changed a lot over the last couple of months, but even before then I was never as innocent as he thinks I was. I started masturbating when I was nine, for fucks sake, and I’ve been imagining sleeping with guys since I was like thirteen and found out how to search for porn on google»

 

He could hear Brandon smile, «Cute» 

 

«Yeah, just laugh» Kurt sarcastically spat «It’s hilarious, my father doesn’t believe I  should  have any kind of sex drive at all. So I don’t think that it’s just that I lied. I think that it’s that I changed - to him seemingly over night. You know, when we got the negative results on the drug test he actually looked disappointed? As if a drug problem would be easier to deal with than me actually wanting to sleep with a guy?» 

 

«That is fucked up» Brandon muttered, perhaps finally understanding. «But, and I don’t want to sound like I think I’m some kind of doctor Phil or anything, but can’t you just talk to him about it? Tell him how you feel? Communication is key, and all that»

 

Kurt snorted. «Is that what you do in your family?» 

 

«God, no. With us it’s all passive aggressive silences and avoidance. Would be great if at least one family was able to be functional though»

 

«Right. Well, I’ll take that into consideration» 

 

«Happy to be of service». 

 

A bird outside the window caught his eye as it landed on a tree branch, nipping at the bark. Then it flew away again, disappearing into the sky. 

 

Kurt envied it it’s wings. 

 

«I wish you were here» he said. 

 

«Oh?» 

 

«I feel cold» 

 

Brandon hesitated, «Well, how long is your break then?» 

 

* * *

 

They sat on the bleachers, looking over the football field, abandoned as autumn hit and the gymnasium  linoleum became increasingly preferable over the soggy grass. 

 

Kurt was sipping a large mocha that Brandon had brought him - a twin to the one in his own hand, and they sat nestled together, Kurt leaning into Brandon’s neck, pressed close to him, his strong arm curled around his waist. 

 

It was like a soothing balm over his mind.  He felt warmer, this way. Braver. Less distraught.

 

He kissed him, deeply, letting the taste of chocolate mingle between them as he tasted his tongue and his slightly chapped lips.

 

«Thank you» he muttered, words muffled as he spoke them into Brandon’s chest. 

 

«It’s my pleasure» Brandon smiled, and kissed his nose. 

 

When Kurt walked back to class, the still half-finished coffee had cooled, but he was wearing a smile  that could have warmed the core of Alpha Centauri . 

 

* * *

 

His head was held high, no shame in sight, as he walked in the door, locking it behind himself. As he had expected Burt was sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. 

 

He didn’t smile as he greeted him. 

 

«Hi». 

 

Kurt sat on the chair opposite of his, leaning into the back of the chair and staring at his father until he cleared his throat. 

 

«So…» he begun hesitantly. 

 

«So» Kurt mocked. 

 

Burt’s teeth met with a clang, «Why did you lie to me?» 

 

Kurt huffed. «Do you remember that guy who talked to me at the supermarket?» he asked. 

 

Burt’s brows furrowed. «Yes, of course»

 

«Do you remember how you reacted?» 

 

His father nodded. 

 

«That’s why» 

 

«That is not a real answer-» Burt protested. 

 

Kurt interrupted him, frustrated. «Dad, you told me that every man who is sexually attracted to me wants to use me and bail. Now, I don’t believe that for a second, because it’s ridiculous, but what kind of message does that belief say about you, dad?» 

 

«He was way too old for you!» 

 

«So, you’re saying that if I wanted to date somebody who is my age, you wouldn’t try to break us up?» 

 

«Of course not!» Burt shouted. 

 

Kurt clenched his teeth and said nothing. He was sure that if something like that actually happened Burt would be as uncomfortable with it as he was with this situation. Maybe Burt thought he wouldn’t, or maybe he was just certain in his belief that no immature teenager, no matter how  high on the Kinsey scale , could ever dare date Kurt, Lima’s gay pariah. It was a conclusion Kurt himself had made long ago. 

 

«Look, kid» Burt started. «I don’t want you going out with that guy again. He’s not good for you». 

 

«You don’t know anything about him» 

 

His father looked at him oddly. «And whose fault is that? All I know is that he makes you lie to me» 

 

Sighing, Kurt slumped into his chair. «He doesn’t make me lie. I make me lie. If I tell you about him, do you promise not to freak out?» 

 

Grimacing, Burt nodded and gestured for him to continue. 

 

«So, we met when he came into the shop to get his car, and he asked me out to lunch. Ever since we’ve been texting each other. He’s twenty two, just finished with a bachelor degree in journalism and he’s staying at home to save money while he searches for a job» Kurt explained

 

«Twenty two!» Burt exclaimed, looking murderous. 

 

«And he’s the same guy as the one from the grocery store» Kurt rushed out with, bracing himself.

 

His father’s face rapidly reddened in anger. «Kurt! I told you specifically not to!» 

 

«Yeah, but that was after I had already asked him out. Though I would definitely have asked him out after what you said» Kurt told him. 

 

Burt groaned. «You’re dating somebody you hardly even know»

 

«Dad, we’ve been texting back and forth for two months. I do know him» 

 

«Oh, really ” he snorted “Let’s see it then» Burt reached out his hand expectantly. 

 

Kurt frowned. «You want to read our texts» 

 

Burt nodded, no doubt  in his eyes . 

 

In truth, Kurt wanted to whine and shout, insist that it was private and refuse to unlock the screen, but he knew that that would be as futile as the times he as a toddler tried to wriggle himself out of brushing his teeth. According to his father, Kurt had no right to privacy when it came to Burt. At least not when it didn’t suit him, when he could justify violating it. 

 

So he unlocked it, found the text log and let him have it. He knew it would take a while, going through weeks and weeks of chat logs, so he got up and started making himself a sandwich, grumpily making one for his father as well and setting it down in front of him with a thump. 

 

Burt read, and Kurt ate, did some homework and twiddled his thumbs, trying not to get embarrassed thinking of the things his father might be reading. 

 

Eventually, Burt set the phone down. 

 

«So, do you still think he’s just a predator?» Kurt asked, turning away from his text book. 

 

His father looked at him, eyes reluctant, but the anger seemed to have dissipated a bit. «I still don’t want you going out with him» 

 

«Are you going to stop me?» Kurt asked, not challenging, only weary. 

 

Burt huffed, rubbing his temples. «Could I?» 

 

Kurt shook his head. «Probably not» he replied. «You would have to take my car, my wallet, my phone, my keys. You’d have to lock me up»

 

«And if I begged you not to?» his father asked pleadingly. 

 

Kurt sighed. «You have no case, dad. I like to hang out with him, he’s a really nice guy. And I’m seventeen. My sex life shouldn’t be any of your business»

 

Cringing, Burt looked away. 

 

«Are Carol and Finn coming today?» Kurt asked after a beat, feeling simultaneously triumphant and deject ed . He had won the fight, but it still felt as though he was losing. 

 

«Shit» Burt exclaimed softly, rubbing his hand over his eyes again. «They are» 

 

Kurt nodded, glancing up at the watch, «I’m going to get started on dinner then» 

 

«If he’s such a ‘nice guy’» Burt eventually said, getting up from his chair. «He won’t mind coming over for dinner, will he?» 

 

Kurt turned and levelled his father with a confused look. «Tonight?» 

 

«Tonight, tomorrow, next weekend. Anytime, so long as I get to meet him before you go out with him again» 

 

Reluctantly, Kurt bit his lip. «I’ll ask…» 

 

«And if he wants to see you again he’ll come» Burt said stonily. «If not I will take your car. I will stop you seeing him»

 

Kurt turned back to the food, his heart in his throat. There was no winning this game. 

 

* * *

 

Kurt really didn’t think it could get any worse, but then he hadn’t counted on Finn.

 

Dinner was a bit strained, but Carole hadn’t seemed to notice anything unnatural about Burt’s silence  and Kurt’s stiff smiles. Or maybe she tried her hardest to ignore it to create some semblance of normalcy. To be nice. 

 

In her presence Kurt felt his shoulders sink. They had always gotten along well, he and Carole. She was warm, and she made his father happy without trying to step into the role as Kurt’s step-mother. She knew he would never call her mom and she wasn’t offended in the slightest.

 

She had told him many times that she wanted to see his pictures from Europe, having always dreamed of going there herself. It had till then been postponed, because there was  always  something else that stole the attention. A football game, a movie, a boardgame or any matter of things cropped up to distract them. 

 

Now, with conversation going dismally and their bellies as full as they would get, she deemed it time to finally break out the camera and HDMI cable. 

 

That would have been fine - there were no photos on his camera that were especially incriminating of anything, and Kurt’s mood did get brighter as Carole gushed over pictures of the Eiffel Tower, of Notre Dame, of Versailles and the Colosseum, the Gaudi park, Acropolis and Stonehenge, of beaches and castles and cityscapes. But…

 

Burt and Finn sat watching also, Burt somewhat less interested and Finn seeming for the most part to be boring his braincells to death. Until, as one picture cropped up - the first which featured not only him, and Katherine and Katy, but also Mathieu and he sat up straighter. 

 

Kurt could sense the  formation of the question within Finn’s mind and turned his gaze to him, willing him him to stay quiet, burning holes into the side of his skull with his eyes. 

 

Stupid, idiotic Finn. Never listening to anything he should hear. Always overhearing what you didn’t want him to know. Always putting his big, ugly feet in his big, ugly mouth, so thoughtlessly you almost had to wonder whether his obliviousness was only a facade hiding a vicious, evil little soul. 

 

«Is that the French guy?» Finn asked, cocking his head as if studying the picture of Mathieu, smiling as he held up his own camera, loop around his neck, dark curls partway hiding his mischievous eyes in shadow. 

 

Swallowing, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to overhear, Kurt tried to keep his voice level. «Well, he is French, yeah. That’s a picture from the museum La Reina Sofia in Madrid» 

 

Burt looked over at Finn a moment, then turned to Kurt, his eyes narrowed. «Who is he?» 

 

«Um… His name is Mathieu. He’s a photographer. We bumped into each other at a gallery in Paris. He knew grandma already, since they both attend a lot art functions» Kurt explained. 

 

«And how did he end up in Madrid with you?» 

 

Kurt tensed, feeling his father’s suspicion as clearly as if it were a white-hot poker reaching for him across the space of the living room. «He decided to join us»

 

Burt’s hands tightened around the arm of the couch. «If he spent all of the summer with you, how come I’ve never heard his name before?» he asked. 

 

«I must have forgotten to mention it» Kurt tried, but Burt wasn’t listening any longer. 

 

«Why does Finn know  about him , when I don’t?» Burt continued, eyes hard and distrustful. 

 

«I don’t really know anything, Mr Hummel» Finn rushed to say, looking immensely uncomfortable. «It was just something Puck said, that’s all» 

 

«What? Noah Puckerman? What did he say?» Burt questioned, turning his searing gaze on Finn. 

 

Kurt stared at Finn, and Finn stared desperately back, his eyes wide and scared, a deer caught in the headlights. 

 

«I…» he glanced at Burt, at his mom, at Kurt, at Burt again. «I have to pee!» he exclaimed and got up, rushing out of the room before anybody had the time to do anything. 

 

The sound of the bathroom door slamming shut echoed loudly.  Then the living room went quiet. A needle could have been heard dropping to the floor in that moment. 

 

Slowly Burt turned his eyes back to the screen. «Him too, huh?» he asked, voice faux casual. 

 

«I…»

 

«Why do you keep lying to me?» Burt exploded. 

 

Carol looked from father to son, «Burt-» she started, but she was interrupted. Her husband-to-be seemed to have forgotten her presence, his attention solely focused on Kurt. 

 

Kurt gritted his teeth. To have this confrontation in front of Carole… «I didn’t lie to you about this, I just didn’t feel it was necessary for you to know» 

 

«You lied - a lie of omission» Burt spat. «Did you sleep with that guy too?» 

 

«Burt!» Carole exclaimed, horrified. 

 

Kurt clamped his mouth shut defiantly. Nothing good could come of saying anything. Nothing he said would make any difference. The night was ruined no matter what he said or did. 

 

«You did» Burt looked at him, shaking his head. «How many more then? I thought I raised you better than that, but apparently you see nothing wrong in whoring your way through Europe!» 

 

By the time he was finished he was screaming, and the beer can he had held was crushed, stains spreading on the carpet. 

 

Kurt got up, his face hot. His eyes were burning and he refused to cry in front of them. Not now. Not ever. 

 

«Where are you going? I’m speaking to you!» Burt exclaimed, getting up himself, but hampered from going after him by Carole clamp ing her hand around his wrist. 

 

He could hear her hissing at his father as rushed to his room, shutting  out  all sound as the door slammed behind him. 

 

***

 

The tears had long since dried up on his cheeks by the time the door creaked open again, although his stomach still felt as if it were full of gravel. 

 

Burt’s steps were careful on the staircase, trying to make the least amount of noise, trying not to disturb, trying to seem non-threatening. He was remorseful then. 

 

As Kurt didn’t move from his spot lying on the bed, eyes fixed on the roof - counting cracks, Burt cleared his throat and approached slowly. 

 

«I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started that conversation in front of Carole and Finn» he said. Reciting what Carole had told him to say or being sincere? Hard to tell. 

 

«Why not? They’re going to be family soon too. They should get to contribute in the shit show» Kurt’s voice sounded dead in his own ears.

 

Burt shifted, «Well, I shouldn’t have said what I did either» 

 

«What, you don’t think you should have called me a whore?» Kurt asked, sarcasm buried under layers of stone. 

 

A loud swallow. «No, I shouldn’t have» He moved closer. «Will you look at me?» 

 

Kurt shrugged, «I don’t feel like it» 

 

But Burt came closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed, peering down at him, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Those sad eyes. «We have to talk about this» 

 

«About what?» 

 

Burt sighed, frustrated, «About this. You, lying to me constantly» 

 

Kurt frowned at him. «I don’t lie to you ‘constantly’» 

 

«Oh? What would you call it then?» 

 

«I lied about two things. And the lying isn’t the problem» Kurt said, ignoring Burt’s questioning look. «Do you know why I didn’t tell you, dad? About Mathieu or Brandon?» 

 

It was the first time Kurt had mentioned Brandon’s name to his father, but neither of them made anything of it at that point. Burt merely stared at him. 

 

«I wanted to protect it. What I had with Mathieu, what I have with Brandon now, it’s special. It’s nice. Being with Mathieu was the happiest I’ve been since mom died, and I knew that if I told you about him you’d try to ruin it for me» he explained. 

 

Burt looked at him uncomprehendingly. «Kurt, he was too old for you. You might not have thought anything of it, but he shouldn’t have approached you. He took advantage of your innocence» 

 

Kurt broke him off with a piercing look. «He didn’t take advantage of me. Mathieu is only two years older than me and he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body» he said. «But you see, dad. I knew you would say that even before I slept with him» 

 

He looked to the roof again, frowning even as his cheeks pinked. «I lost my virginity this summer. And if I had been straight. If I had lost it to a girl, then you would be patting me on the back right now. And you wouldn’t have expected me to tell you anything about it either» 

 

«But I’m gay» Kurt stared down his father. «So you’re livid. You call me a whore. You think I’ve debased myself. That is the problem - that you are a bit more homophobic than you think you are» 

 

Burt had turned a fine shade of puce, but he didn’t shout. He had lost that look of self righteousness.  He swallowed heavily once, then again. 

 

«You were safe?» he asked  softly ,  subdued . 

 

Kurt nodded, «Always» 

 

Getting up, Burt stared at him. «No more lies, okay» He started his retreat without waiting for a reply. «I love you, kid» 

 

«I love you too» Kurt muttered turning over in the bed, hiding his face in his pillow and pressing his knees close to his chest. His stomach was still full of gravel. 

 

_If omitting is lying,_ he thought.  _Then I’ve lied to you every day for as long as I can remember. I lie about how much you hurt me._ _How you stab me without even realizing you are holding a knife._ _I hated myself for_ _an eternity_ _and you didn’t even notice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> This chapter was a bit slow. I had to drag myself through it, but that's writing for you. Can't always be inspiration straight from the heavens. Sometimes you know what you want to get across, but not how. 
> 
> Music tips from a doofus:  
> Sufjan Stevens - Fourth of July, All of Me Wants All of You  
> Where is my mind (covers by Yoav/Emily Browning and Maxence Cyrin + original of course)  
> Gorillaz - Melancholy Hill, El Mañana  
> Jason Webly - Pyramid  
> Mark Eliyahu - Journey


	11. Chapter 11

11

There were no pancakes waiting for him that morning either, only a silence even more awkward and daunting than the last. He could feel his father’s guilt hanging in the air between them, his frustration matching that which Kurt felt gnawing at the inside of his stomach and scratching at his throat. They hardly said anything to each other. Neither could think of anything to say.

He must have had a look about him that wordlessly communicated his wound up state, because most people seemed to step extra carefully around him. Speak more silently as though not to disturb him. Maybe he should not be as grateful for it as he were. Maybe he should have been annoyed that nobody would ask him what was on his mind, but he could only breathe a sigh of relief that he did not have to speak of it. That Quinn and Tina and everybody felt content to keep conversation to boring, normal things and leave his sullen silence uncommented.

But, as always, there was one person who never understood enough to do as he was meant to.

Finn approached him between lessons, as he was switching out his biology textbook with his English textbook, replacing the first inside his locker. Kurt sensed Finn’s hulking form approaching before he ever saw or heard him. It was a special talent of his. Large bodied teenagers walking too close made his ears twitch anxiously, years as a victim of bullying gifting him with oversensitive sensors.

He always tensed up when that happened, and turning to see Finn walking toward him was only a slight relief. Instead of instinctual fear his lips now curled in annoyance, and he closed the locker door with what was a force that was perhaps a bit excessive. The clang of it was loud, but easily swallowed up in the chattering of the people around them. Only a few turned to look curiously at him. 

“Hey” Finn started, looking at him earnestly, his lips in a pout.

“Hi” Kurt smiled briefly, falsely, and watched the other boy with brows that refused to straighten out. Just Finn’s presence made his skin itch with frustrated, impotent anger.

“I…I just wanted to say I am sorry for what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to make trouble for you” Finn apologized. “I didn’t think…”

Kurt huffed. “That’s always the problem with you, isn’t it? You never think before you talk”

Finn’s eyes widened. He had obviously not expected to be scolded. He had expected a grudging smile and easy forgiveness.

Perhaps that was what he was owed, but Kurt was not in the mood to give it.

“But… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” Finn tried again, looking faintly like a kicked puppy. As desperate as, anyway.

Kurt smiled once more, without humor or a front of friendship. “I know, Finn. You never mean to. You’re so oblivious it sometimes makes me wonder how you even function. If you actually tried to do something malicious I’m sure you would fail miserably. But you know what? Just because you’re a stupid, thoughtless fuck doesn’t give you immunity from consequences”

“You did something and I was hurt. My _dad_ was hurt. And I’m angry at you. Honestly I know this isn’t all your fault, or even a little bit, but it doesn’t matter. I want to punch you right now. I want to punch you so badly” Kurt glared at him longingly for a moment, then diverted his gaze and readjusted the strap of his book bag over his shoulder. “So just keep away from me for a while, yeah?”

He walked away without a backward glance at Finn who stood stunned silent, his fists bunched at his sides, his eyes as confused and sad as a little boy’s.

 

* * *

 

It was not Brandon who answered the door, but his mother. Kurt should have expected that that might happen, prepared for the possibility as he made his way through town, should have practiced an easy smile as walked up the porch and pressed the doorbell. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know that Brandon lived with his parents, but for some reason his brain had forgotten that fact today as he decided to drive over and visit him. He hadn’t even called in advance, damn him.

So he was entirely unprepared when the door opened and a middle aged woman, her hair grayening, her chin starting to sag with age, stood before him.

“Hello?” she said, looking at him with a cocked brow.

Kurt clapped his mouth shut, hoping she hadn’t noticed the seconds he had been staring bewildered at her. “Hi” he said, attempting a jovial smile. “I’m Kurt. I was wondering if Brandon is home?”

“Oh. Yes, he’s in the yard. Raking leaves, I think” she moved to make room for him to pass. “You can just come in and wait in the kitchen. I’ll get him for you” she said, leading him inside.

It was a small house, but the kitchen was large and spacious with top-notch appliances. Not too surprising, he thought. Brandon’s mother had been a pastry chef after all.

He was motioned to a chair by the table and the woman disappeared deeper into the house again. Kurt could faintly hear her talking with her son, could hear the surprise in his voice as he replied to her, even as he could not hear the exact words.

Kurt chewed on his lip anxiously. He should have called ahead.

She re-entered the kitchen soon after. “He’ll come soon. Wants to finish the little he had left to do. Would you like some coffee? Or tea - juice perhaps?”

Kurt nodded “Tea sounds good” he said, pulling at the sleeve of his jacket nervously.

As she finished finding cups and putting on the water heater, she turned to him again. Her eyes studying him. “I’m sorry, but can I ask how old you are?” she wondered.

His heart made a little jump. “Seventeen” he said, his mouth drying up, but her face showed only mild surprise.

“Huh. Young. But I guess you gay boys grow up fast, don’t you” she said, frowning. Whether she was displeased because of her son’s choice of partner or whether her displeasure was a result of her own statement was difficult to discern.

He nodded anyhow. “We have to” he said and felt the truth of it as the words trickled over his lips.

She nodded in return, as if what he had said was sage. Then the water heater clicked and she busied herself with pouring them their cups of tea. It was hibiscus. Kurt could tell even from just the smell.

She sat down opposite him, setting down the cups and offering him honey to mix in. He declined, and she shrugged, looking down at an open paper which she must have been looking through before Kurt showed up. A pen was in her hand, her eyes on a net of interlocking squares with numbers filling them. A Sudoku.

“So you are a senior in high school now?” she asked, looking up over her glasses.

“Yeah” he said awkwardly, and felt incredibly happy once Brandon appeared in the doorframe, smiling at him as he tried to brush his windswept hair into a semblance of tidiness.

“Hey” he greeted. “Come over for that WoW session?”

Kurt nodded, though his intentions had been more in the line of burying his face in Brandon’s neck and never leaving again.

“We’ll just head upstairs then, mom” he told her and she just nodded, her eyes still on the tiny numbers in the tiny boxes as they went, Brandon grabbing something from the cabinets and gesturing for Kurt to bring his tea.

“Sorry about my mom” Brandon whispered as they walked up the stairs. “She’s taking these pretty heavy pain meds for her shoulder injury, so she gets a bit odd sometimes”

“Oh, I thought she just didn’t like me” Kurt said.

He huffed. “No. She’s just a bit doped up. Which is probably a good thing since she normally would want to make you lunch and interrogate you”

They went in the third door down the hallway and entered into what was clearly Brandon’s bedroom. It still had the look of a teenager’s room, with posters of athletes Kurt couldn’t recognize, obscure bands and various games. The décor was boyish in that Spartan, messy, nerdy way that Kurt himself had never managed to replicate. He had always loved decorating and some pretty, pinkish, delicious smelling things would always sneak their way in, even when he was trying to tune down his gayness.

“Welcome to my humble abode” Brandon welcomed, giving a tiny, joking bow. “I apologize for the mess” he smiled ruefully before picking up some clothes that lay on top of his bed and stuffing the bundle into his wardrobe.

He dumped down on the edge of the bed, ripping open the plastic on the snack he’d brought. “Sit wherever”.

“Cinnamon rolls?” Kurt said, sitting down beside him and sipping at his tea. There was no table to put things on, the room small and only containing a wardrobe, desk and chair besides the bed.

Brandon hummed in affirmation, popping one into his mouth. “Garden work is more work than it appears. Apparently”. He handed one to Kurt, who took smaller bites, savoring the sweetness.

“So… why are you here?” he asked then, causing Kurt to look over at him sharply.

“Can’t I just want to come and visit you?” he asked.

“Of course, but I think you would usually have called first. Especially since it is your first visit” he smirked. “Plus. You just seem a bit ragged. Still fighting with your dad?”

Kurt sighed. “Yeah. And now he knows about Mathieu too”

Brandon frowned. “Mathieu?”

“The first guy I slept with” Kurt explained. “I kind of neglected to tell him of that in my emails home over the summer” He sighed. “He wants to meet you by the way. Wants you to come over for dinner”

Brandon cringed. “Not today, right?”

“No, whenever” Kurt replied before frowning. “Wait, so you’ll come?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. Unless you think he’ll shoot me or something?” Brandon ate another cinnamon roll, chewing slowly.

Kurt smiled. “My dad doesn’t even own a gun”

“Well, I’m sure there are a lot of other ways he could kill me, but if you say I’ll be alright I trust you” he went on, grinning. “Still not looking forward to it though”

Kurt bumped his shoulder into Brandon’s, wriggling a bit closer to the heat of his body; Brandon’s body was like a furnace against him. “I’ve been feeling off kilter all day. Like I want to tear everybody’s head off or run away from everything, crying”

Brandon slid an arm around him, the bag of pastries momentarily forgotten.

They angled towards each other, looking at each other for a moment before Kurt reached upwards towards him, hand traveling to Brandon’s shoulders, kissing him deeply, cinnamon and hibiscus mingling.

They pressed closer and Kurt ended up sitting in Brandon’s lap. “I have to be home, in an hour when my dad is off from work” he told him, before he started to unbutton Brandon’s jeans.

He was halted by a hand closing around his wrist. “That fast? Aren’t we supposed to wait until I’ve met your father?”

“I was meant to wait to see you until dad met you. I’ve already broken his rules. In fact, I don’t think I care much for his rules”

Brandon held on. “Is this why you are doing this? Because you want to break his rule?” he asked, not accusing, but with a note of disappointment. 

Shrugging, then shaking his head, Kurt leaned against Brandon, his cheek against his chest so he did not need to look at him as he spoke. “I can’t let him make rules for me. Not about this. It would feel odd being with you after he approved, as if I need his approval to have sex” Kurt frowned, “But it’s more than that. Right now you are the only person who manages to make me feel as if I’m not alone”

“So I want you near me” he said, then lower, reaching to drag his lips along Brandon’s throat, “I want you as close to me as you can get”

Lifting his chin with his fingers, Brandon looked him in the eyes. Observed his damned pink blush, his flickering shyness making it difficult to meet his eyes like this. “Okay” he said, still staring for a few seconds, minutes more, before breaking away like somebody pulling themselves out of a trance.

Their lips met again, more forcefully this time, lips pressing hard against lips, tongues meeting in a battle that neither really wanted to win. Kurt’s hands travelled once more to the front of Brandon’s pants, and this time they were left to do their work unhindered. He got them open, his hands reaching in to curl around the hardness he found.

Brandon rolled them over then, putting his weight onto him, not enough to trap him, but enough to ground him. “You need to be naked!” he whisper-shouted, pulling at Kurt’s jacket and shirt, getting him to lift his arms for him to pull the clothing off, following it over the edge of the bed with his own sweater when Kurt tugged insistently at the hem.

Kissing frantically, bare chests sliding against each other, their pants soon followed, kicked off with little grace, and they gasped in unison as their lower halves met, naked skin upon naked skin. Sparks danced along Kurt’s spine, crackling in his ears as they kissed, as they rubbed their cocks against each other, as hands wandered wildly.

Suddenly though, Brandon shot up, separating himself from Kurt almost violently. “Just a minute!” he said, sprinting naked the few steps to the door and turning the key. Locks. Locks were a good idea. Then he went to the dresser and rummaged through the bottom drawer until he found the items he had been looking for.

Right. They needed that too, Kurt thought as Brandon came back, crawling back between his thighs.  With a pop, the bottle was opened and cool gel poured onto Brandon’s fingers. He rubbed them together to heat it some before his hand travelled down, down to press inside carefully.

The first finger drew a sigh out of him as it pressed in, a sharp gasp as it curled. The second made him moan needily as it stroked his walls, stretching ever so slightly. The third was both too little and too much to feel satisfied.  

“Come on, I’m ready” he growled against Brandon’s mouth. They parted for a moment, Brandon staring into him, then reaching for the discarded condom, ripping the packet open and rolling it deftly over his cock. He slathered it with a generous layer of lube before dropping to elbows, burying his nose in Kurt’s neck as he guided himself into him.

Kurt breathed in sharply at the sensation of it inching into him, his muscles fluttering reflexively, his nails digging into Brandon’s arms. He went slow and Kurt was grateful, because despite what he had said it had been a long time and he was tight. Everything felt just a little more intense than he remembered. Like ha had been turned half virgin again.

They kissed, panting into each other’s mouths as the thrusts, first slow and tentative, turned harder and more insistent. Kurt was wrapped around him as tightly as he could manage, his arms about his neck and his legs locked around his waist. It did not afford them the best leverage, but Brandon did not complain.

Just the slide of it felt delicious - the hardness, the warmth, giving friction inside while the closeness of their bodies gave friction to his cock, but when Brandon slid his arm beneath him, lifting him half into his lap, making his back arch, he saw stars. The perfect angle, designed to press right into his sweet spot.

“Shh” Brandon hissed at him, a broken chuckle following it, and Kurt realized that he was moaning. Making noises so loud they might reach downstairs. He tried to shut up, but he had never been good at keeping quiet and instead buried his face in Brandon’s skin, kissing and biting to keep his mouth busy.

His whole body felt hot and he could feel the fire soaring, the pressure building. He was close, and his movements was becoming less purposeful. The writhing of his hips stuttered and staggered, his breath hitched, and when Brandon’s fingers closed around him it only took a few seconds until he was screaming soundlessly into his neck, slicking their bellies with spunk.

Brandon moaned as he tightened about him, then tried to pull out, only to find he was still locked in by the cradle of Kurt’s hips. He was pulled down and they kissed, Kurt still sluggish from orgasm even as he squeezed his thighs into Brandon’s waist, silently urging him to restart thrusting.

It did not take long before the thrusts grew frantic and animalistic and Brandon came, collapsing on top of Kurt as he swore.

Kurt carded a shaky hand through Brandon’s sweaty locks, nuzzling his ear as he was still panting into his own.

“Fuck” Brandon whispered, lifting his head to look at Kurt, to kiss him while he smiled into it.

A time later Brandon pulled out, and Kurt grimaced.  “Sorry” Brandon muttered.

Kurt just gave him a short peck in reply, “What time is it?” he asked.

Brandon glanced at his nightstand and the tiny alarm clock that stood there. “Five forty-six” he said.

“Shit. I have to be home soon” Kurt groaned, pulling himself up in a semi-upright position and rubbing at his eyes. “Could I use your shower?”

Brandon nodded. “Of course. You want company?”

Kurt smiled down at him as he got up. “I don’t think that would be very productive”

He showered as quickly as he could manage, swiftly rubbing the soap into his skin and rinsing off, trying not to get his hair wet.

“So when should I come?” Brandon asked as he followed Kurt downstairs.

“Any day is the same for my dad, I’m sure pulled his jacket down from the coat hanger. “He might be forced to act more nicely if you come on Friday. ‘Catch is you have to meet my step-brother and mother to be”

“What the heck. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?” Brandon shrugged.  

 “You don’t think it’s weird?” Kurt eyed him skeptically. “Meeting the family?”

“Sure, but well… I knew your age and I still asked for your number. So...” he shrugged again.

Kurt smirked as he reached up, standing on his tiptoes as he pecked Brandon’s cheek. “Friday then”

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re like twenty-five?” Finn asked between chews, breaking up the heavy silence that had swallowed up the dining room as they excised the safely menial topics.

Brandon laughed, “You’re a little more than two years off. I’m twenty-two”. Somehow he managed to make it look effortless, though Kurt knew how nervous he was.

A few hours before he had been fretting over what to wear and what to bring, texting him to get his input as though it was the most important thing in the world. Burt had frowned at the chocolate confectionary as he accepted it, wearing a look of dismay laced with guilty desire, while Carole preened over her bouquet of pink lilies, rushing to get them a vase.

The anxiety was so piqued that the air felt thick with it as the two men shook hands brusquely, Burt looking as though he enjoyed squeezing Brandon’s hand till he winced.

“Unemployed, my son tells me” Burt said now, disapproval clear.

Kurt threw his father a scorching look. He was being a horrible host, unpleasant and sulky, and Kurt was sure this topic had already been discussed between the two of them. He half wanted to interfere, but knew that Brandon could fend for himself.

“Yeah, for the moment” he nodded. “I just finished my journalism degree and now I’m looking for a job. It’s taking longer than I thought it would, but journalism isn’t really full of job opportunities and the kind of jobs I want are generally not looking for somebody from Nowhere, Ohio”

“What is it that you are looking for, then?” Carole asked.

“Um” Brandon thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I want something where I can work with investigative journalism, so either national, international or metropolitan news. But there are just so many people applying to these jobs that you really have to fight to stand out from the crowd. I think I’m getting closer and closer though, as I get better at writing applications”

Carole nodded, smiling with polite interest as she speared another piece of fusilli with her fork. “Sounds like it would be an exciting job. Is the dream job to work in the New York Times?”

Brandon shrugged. “Not especially. I was thinking more like the BBC, the CNN or some independent news agency”

“And what are you thinking of doing then, when you finally get this job of yours?” Burt shot in harshly, looking livid. “After getting my kid’s hopes up you’re just going to up and leave?”

“Um” Brandon’s eyes widened and he looked to Kurt, alarm shining in the depth of his irises.

Kurt sighed audibly, “Dad, we are both fully aware that this relationship will have to end. That that ending will come too soon. He’s leaving, and even if I did believe in long distance relationships I’m going to college in less than two years’ time”

Burt scowled at him. “What, he’ll just…” he waved a hand around, struggling to word himself. “Have his way with you, and then move on to greener fields and you say you will be fine?”

“Yes!” Kurt replied. “Dad, there are two ways for a relationship to end; either with a breakup or death. Almost all romantic relationships end in the former. 99% just of the relationships going on in our class will probably end right before the end of senior year! So I’m not going to shy away from being with somebody I like just because I know it can’t last”

Burt was red with indignant anger by the end of Kurt’s little speech, but he didn’t seem to know how to word his objections, so he just grunted and kept his silence, glaring holes into his plate as he went on.

Neither Finn nor Carole seemed to know how to respond either, so for a few moments all that was heard was the unnaturally slow chewing, swallowing and scraping of knives across ceramic.

It was a good meal, Kurt knew. He had made it himself, him and Carole. But for all the ingredients he knew he had put into the pot; the pasta, the cream, the spices, it could as easily have been a piece of soggy cardboard he was cutting his teeth into.

Kurt would not say anything; Burt would not say anything. It was as if they were playing a round of every parents’ favorite game, “who can keep quiet the longest” and both refused to lose.

The non-silence grew thicker and thicker until it felt choking. Carole and Brandon were both opening and closing their mouths, repeatedly considering saying something and then reconsidering, embarrassed.

Finn was just observing them, his head dipped towards his plate, not watching anybody, but watching all the same. Looking as if he wished he could run from the room.

It went on and on, scraping, chewing, swallowing until at some moment Kurt was looking, and Finn was looking and they accidentally looked each other in the eyes.

Kurt didn’t know what exactly the message that he sent with his brows, and his lips and the dilation of his pupils entailed, and he did not know what Finn’s facial muscles hardening meant, but it happened and it definitely meant _something_.

Finn suddenly pulled his phone out of his pocket, and stared at the screen briefly. “Burt, I was wondering whether I could watch the game here? I think it’s already started”

“What game?” Burt asked, his face changing from an expression of quiet rage to one of sullen incomprehension.

“Dolphins vs. the Jets” Finn responded.

Finn was not a particular fan of either of those teams, and could not have been a particularly significant game, seeing as Burt had not been talking his son’s ear off about it the last weeks the way he usually did.

Burt must have at least suspected that too, but it was an opportunity to let go. He briefly looked at Kurt, who pointedly did not meet his gaze, and then he nodded, getting up from his seat.

It was all very impolite, no thank you for the meal, nor any thought for washing up the way he usually did, but Kurt would have cleaned a hundred plates if it got him out of that torturous moment.

There was an almost audible exhale heard in the kitchen as Burt left the room, Finn on his tail.

“Well, that was very pleasant” Carole sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in the way she did whenever she felt a migraine coming on.

Kurt frowned and looked at her apologetically. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have involved you and Finn in this, but I kind of figured…”

“That he would act a bit more nicely with us here” She finished the sentence for him, and smiled ruefully. “Don’t be sorry, Kurt. We are going to get married soon, your father and I. I should be involved and I want to be”

Kurt returned her smile, thankful and bit touched. He swallowed. “I bet we should get on with the cleanup”

Carole nodded, and together the three of them cleared the table and scrubbed clean the pans that the dishwasher wouldn’t take.

When the kitchen once again looked spotless Kurt and Brandon stood looking at the door to the living room apprehensively.

“I could just leave” Brandon suggested.

Kurt scoffed, “That would be admitting defeat. And I don’t lose to my dad” He paused. “But, if you’re uncomfortable… I mean I won’t try to stop you from going” he assured him.

“Of course he won’t leave. You two are going in there and you’re going to sit down next to each other and watch the game with the rest of us” Carole ordered. “Burt will never get used to you if you never let him see you together. And leaving makes you look as if you believe you are guilty of something, Brandon”

Brandon grimaced, “I guess I’m going in then”

“You don’t have to…” Kurt started to say, but Brandon just smiled at him sardonically and followed Carole into the living room.

They chose to sit in the couch beside Finn, Carole in the chair opposite of Burt’s.

There was a moment as Burt stared at Brandon and him, scowling, that Kurt believed he would blow up, but he held his tongue and turned back to the screen.

Their legs touched casually as they sat, close enough to each other that their arms pressed together when they moved. Neither of them said anything, did anything but look at the screen, but they took comfort in each other’s presence. Soaked the heat up and pooled their confidence together.

Finn was watching them from his seat, trying to seem as if he wasn’t looking at them almost as often as he looked at the football players but his look was not one of the revulsion Kurt might have expected, but one of curiosity.

None of them spoke much, other than to utter a curse or a cheer when a player made a spectacular move on either end of the scale. After a while Carole picked up her yarn and needles, and Kurt started messing around with a drawing app on his phone.

Eventually Kurt remembered the chocolate and the blackberry pie he had baked and slipped into the kitchen to get it, Carole following him to offer her help. 

“So what do you think?” Kurt asked her as he pulled the cake tin from the fridge.

Carole hesitated before she answered, “He seems nice”

He turned to look at her, frowning “No, really. What do you think?”

She sighed. “I don’t know Kurt. He does seem nice and when I look at you I just see two boys in love, but when I imagine my reaction had a twenty-two-year-old woman tried to date my son, it’s not very pretty”

“I’m not Finn though” Kurt said a tad sourly.

“No, you’re not” Carole smiled at him “You are twice as mature and ten times as stubborn. As much as I hate to say it I already worry about Finn dating that Rachel girl”

Kurt’s eyes widened “They are dating?” He hadn’t known that. He’d known that they were spending more time together now, but he had thought that that was because Finn felt lonely, still not having made up properly with Puck. Rachel was of course trying to weasel closer to Finn again, he knew that too, but the thought that Finn might actually respond to her advances hadn’t crossed his mind.

Carole nodded. “I believe so. She seems a bit too…”

“Bitchy?” Kurt suggested.

She grimaced. “I was going to say too grown up. She seems as though she could manipulate him into anything. I’m afraid it’s a very unequal relationship” She paused, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Oh, I really shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m sure Finn would be mortified”

Kurt didn’t know what to say. He agreed, mostly, but he was now also desperately curious. “Well, I am going to be his brother soon, so…”

“Yes. Maybe it is better that you know, you and your father…” she started, but her facial muscles were quivering. She looked as though she was near weeping.

He pried the bowl of chocolates out of her unsteady hands and took them in his own. “What?” he asked.

“I guess it isn’t anything you don’t know already, but…” she swallowed. “You’ve noticed how… slow Finn can be. How hard it can be for him to follow a conversation, how hard it is for him to learn”

Kurt nodded. Everybody knew that Finn’s grades were miserable in anything but gym class. He was the stereotypical dumb jock and they all knew and encouraged it. It was one of those things that had seemed endearing to him, when Kurt had been crushing on him, how simple minded he was, but now it was either annoying or exasperating. He had figured it was about effort, that Finn just didn’t care enough to put in the work, whether it came to following the conversation or solving math problems.

“Well, it’s my fault” Carole said.

He frowned. “No, of course it isn’t! Sometimes people just turn out a bit… odd” Kurt protested. “From what I’ve seen you seem like a wonderful mother…”

She shook her head, stopping him in his tracks. “Finn was slow to develop as a child. Mentally. He was such a happy, sweet little thing, but he always had trouble with figuring out toys kids far younger than him had already mastered. He just didn’t seem to understand as well as all the other kids”

Her eyes were growing shiny. “My mother said it was nothing, but I knew. It was because of me. I didn’t want to believe I was pregnant at first, didn’t want to because people would look strangely at me. Because my parents would be so disappointed in me. Because I didn’t want to be 17 and pregnant, but couldn’t make myself have an abortion”

“So I acted as though I wasn’t pregnant. All the way until the bump became too big to explain away as fat”

Her eyes brimmed over, teardrops coating her lower lashes and making them glitter in the lamplight. She wiped them away brusquely as soon as they appeared, but Kurt saw them all the same.

“Carole… Look, it’s not that simple! Many geniuses have been born to bad mothers, and you aren’t even close to being a bad mother. It’s not your fault” he tried to say, but her face did not change, her mind did not change.

He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself. Something like that, it was what it was. No take-backsies there. Only forgiveness and forgetting.

“And Finn is a great guy. He’s kind and sweet…” he stumbled, trying to find some sincerity, but Kurt had not been feeling very charitable towards Finn lately.

Carole nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes. He is a sweet boy. Always was”. She wiped her eyes once more with her sleeve. “I… Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that, but I think you need to know. He’s… You can’t expect the same from him as you do from everybody else. He’s special”

Kurt nodded, silently wincing at the way she emphasized the word “special”. As if it simultaneously contained all the wonder and all the doom in the world.

She hugged him then, sniffling a little, and he returned her embrace even as he frowned into her shoulder.

A beat and then they separated, Carole checking her reflection on the metallic plating of the toaster before they resumed their roles as waiters and went back into the living room.

Kurt had the distinct feeling that some conversation had been had there as well. No one commented as they entered even though they must have been gone too long and Brandon sat unnaturally straight-backed on the couch, his eyes communicating his relief as they met Kurt’s.

As he sat down he shifted his position ever so slightly closer to Brandon, pressing his side to his, and rested his head on his shoulder. Burt glared at them for a moment, but turned back to the screen a second later, popping one of the chocolates into his mouth.

 The game was over and nobody cared to tell him or Carole of the results. A film was on instead and Finn didn’t even look away from it, seeming very engrossed in whatever it was this Nicholas Cage character was doing.

 He looked from Carole to Burt - both sitting there watching, but not really seeing, future husband and wife to be, and thought that they weren’t all that different, really.

 

* * *

 

“What did he say to you?” Kurt asked later as he walked Brandon to the door.

Brandon grinned. “You know, the ordinary. That he’ll cut my dick off and feed it to me if I hurt you”

“What?!” Kurt exclaimed, a grimace of disgusted horror on his face as he imagined the scene.

Laughing, Brandon kissed his cheek. “Paraphrasing. Your brother agreed to be his accomplice too. Good night!”

“Night” Kurt returned silently as Brandon walked into the night.

Brother. Brother?

It was the first time somebody had called Finn his brother in the present tense, as though they were already family. He had known of course, that Finn would become his brother in name. Had always been horrified at the thought - first because of his attraction to him and then because Finn was an ignorant dumbass, but now…

_Brother_     

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 :D
> 
> Hello again :)  
> I'm sorry for taking so long. I have excuses, none that really justify it. Short story; accidentally fried my computer and I am a lazy, procrastinating fuck. 
> 
> Music tips from a random nobody:   
> 252 and Twins by Gem Club  
> Skorpion, Paikalese Poole and Ranavjad by Urban Symphony  
> Johnny Jump Up by Gaelic Storm  
> Blush and Moaning Lisa Smile by Wolf Alice


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